


The Skeleton in the Hole

by 18lzytwner



Series: Bones - Second Series [5]
Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-07
Updated: 2010-04-07
Packaged: 2019-06-15 09:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 26,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/18lzytwner/pseuds/18lzytwner
Summary: A skeleton is found with possible connections to a local Native American tribe. However the details get a little fuzzy upon a discovery that no one saw coming. BB, slight Hodgela





	1. Chapter 1

**West Point, Virginia, Monday at 7:00 am**

          “Come on Bobby, we gotta bust this stuff up before laying the slab,” Sam Ruskin ordered his crewman to fire up the digger.

          “You got it boss.  One large hole, coming up,” Bobby “Running Bear” Johnson nodded as he put his hard hat on and climbed into the vehicle.  Once the engine fired up, he positioned the claw bucket and dug into the ground to remove some old concrete that was mixed into the dirt at their construction site.  Bobby knew that every time he dug into the ground, he risked unearthing his ancestors.  West Point wasn’t always West Point.  Back in the early sixteen hundreds, the town had been called Cinquoteck and was once home to tribes belonging to the Powhatan Confederacy.  Eventually the white man had overrun the small village in size as the population of the settlers boomed.  Reservations wouldn’t be established for another three hundred and fifty years.  As part of the Mattaponi tribe, whose reservation was a few miles north of the city, Bobby was always on the lookout.

          “Hold it up!”  Came the shout of his boss through the radio in the cab of the digger.  Immediately, Bobby stopped and cut the engine.  Climbing out of the large piece of equipment, he scrambled over to where his boss stood.

          “What is it?”  He asked.  Sam just pointed before pulling out his cell phone and dialing the police.  Bobby saw what looked like bones and immediately pulled out his cell phone.  He wasn’t calling the police but instead dialed the number of the Mattaponi Tribal Council.  They would definitely want to have a look at this. 

          The digger had lifted up some ground to reveal a half dressed skeleton wearing what appeared to be a Mattaponi chief headdress.  There was little or no flesh but the leather from the shoes and pants had withstood the test of time.

          “The cops are on their way.  I’m calling Mr. Seaford.  He’s going to want to know that we can’t dig anymore,” Sam explained to Bobby after the Native American hung up his own phone.

          “The Tribal Council will be here soon,” Johnson told him.

          “Mr. Seaford will shit his pants if this turns out to be an ancient burial ground.  No offense man but you know how he is,” Ruskin said.

          “Which is exactly why I work here.  Someone has to watch out for our ancestors,” Bobby nodded.

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Monday at 9:00 am**

          “Bones!”  Booth called as he walked into the lab.  Cam heard him and immediately left the bone storage room with Simon.  The intern had been pointing out some anomalies that he’d found on a skeleton of a soldier from World War Two.

          “Booth?  What’s up?”  She asked as he scanned himself onto the platform.  The forensic anthropologist looked up from her own World War Two skeleton.

          “We’ve got a doozy of a case.  Well it’s sort of a case,” her partner said as though he was slightly confused.

          “What’s going on?”  Cam wanted to know as she and Simon swiped in.  All the commotion had brought Angela and Hodgins up to the group as well.

          “A construction crew found what they think is an Indian burial ground in downtown West Point, Virginia,” Booth explained.

          “Native American.  And the FBI is getting called in because…?”  Brennan raised an eyebrow.

          “Because we’re the only ones with a team who can accurately identify the bones,” the G-man said.

          “And because the guy who owns the property doesn’t want the land claimed as a burial ground because then his project would be toast,” Cam filled in.  She knew how things of this nature usually went.  Her experiences in New York had often been involved with construction and Mob hits.  Often times the people who owned the property wanted the police off as soon as possible so they could continue construction.

          “Exactly.  Either way we have a body, which needs to be identified.  If it isn’t a Native American then this guy was murdered and we need to solve the case,” Booth smiled.

          “All right, let’s grab our gear.  Hodgins, you’ll need to come along.  I need your expertise about the soil and if there are any bugs.  Often times ancestral burial grounds get moved and if he is in fact a Native American, the soil will help determine which tribe he belonged to,” Brennan told him.

          “I’ll get my kit,” with that the entomologist was off like a shot.

          “Angela would you do me a huge favor?”  Brennan asked as she turned to her best friend.

          “Feed and walk Champ?”  The artist smiled.

          “Yes and give him one of those rawhide bones.  He loves those things and despite the fact I usually find them all over the apartment, he should have one,” Brennan smiled back.

          “You got it.  I’ll tucker him out,” Angela winked.

          “I wished she’d talk to me that way,” Hodgins said as he reappeared on the platform.  Booth just gave him a look before following Brennan to her office.


	2. Chapter 2

**West Point, Virginia, Monday at 12:30 pm**

          “I’m Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI and this is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian along with Dr. Jack Hodgins,” Booth produced his ID at the taped off crime scene and the policeman let them through.  Pulling along the curb, he slammed the SUV into park and the three exited the vehicle.

          “Isn’t it a little odd they closed the whole street?”  Hodgins asked, referring to the side street that had been taped off on both ends where it reached a road that ran perpendicular.

          “I’m thinking they want to be cautious.  No worries, I’ll drop the whole Federal Government shtick on them and we’ll clear this up,” the G-man said with a smile.

          “Feds,” Hodgins muttered.

          “You must be the FBI,” a uniformed man approached them.

          “We are,” Booth told him without making all the introductions.

          “I’m Sheriff Johnny Koch.  This here is Mattaponi Tribal Council Elder Billy Trout,” the lawman introduced himself and the middle aged Native American to his right.  Billy Trout was a tall man with thinning jet-black hair.  On his temples, hints of grey appeared which seemed to match the wrinkles beginning to form on his dark tan leather-like skin.  He did not wear traditional Mattaponi garb but rather jeans and plaid button down shirt.

          “Please just call me Billy,” the man spoke up.

          “Good to meet you both.  I’d like to have Dr. Hodgins and myself see the remains,” Brennan got right down to business.

          “I’d like that too but we’re still waiting for Sheriff Skye to arrive.  If the body is in fact one of our ancestors, he will be escorted to the reservation and reburied,” Billy explained.

          “We have nothing but respect for you and your tribe but I wouldn’t want the almost three hour drive from D.C. to add to the stalling of the investigation,” Booth told him.

          “That is understandable but Tribal ground is sacred and I cannot allow it.  With any luck, Sheriff Skye will be here shortly,” Billy still had a smile on his face.  He was in no way trying to affect the investigation but Tribal Law was Tribal Law. 

          “What is the Sheriff doing that we beat him here?”  The FBI agent wanted to know.

          “We only have the Sheriff and two deputies out on the reservation.  He must make sure the deputies are properly instructed and alert everyone of what has happened.  Should that be our ancestor, the entire community will take part in his burial,” the Tribal Elder explained.

          “Here he comes right now,” Sheriff Koch pointed to a large van that was painted in the Mattaponi Tribal colors.  The van was parked and the Native American quickly joined them.

          “Sorry it took me so long.  We had some cows escape from Samuel’s farm,” Skye explained.

          “He really should get that fence fixed,” Billy shook his head.

          “It’s fixed now,” Skye said.

          “Good.  Now we can let Dr.’s Brennan and Hodgins get to work,” Billy smiled and quickly the two scientists approached the body.

          “What have we got Bones?”  Booth wondered.

          “Preliminary exam does in fact show that we are looking at a male between the ages of fifty and sixty.  I’ll need to get the skull to Angela though.  It was damaged when the digger went into the ground which is making race identification difficult,” Brennan replied.

          “Bones?”  Skye asked.

          “Where is this Angela and how may she assist us?”  Billy ignored the Sheriff’s question.

          “She’s back in D.C.  She uses her artistic skills to give skulls a face,” Booth explained.  Billy just nodded.

          “His clothes smell strange,” Hodgins commented.

          “I would smell too if I’d been buried there since the sixteen hundreds,” Koch smirked.

          “Not like this you wouldn’t,” the entomologist said without continuing the thought.

          “This body wasn’t here four hundred years ago,” Brennan told them.

          “How long has it been there?”  Skye asked.

          “I’d say when this concrete pad had been poured about forty years ago,” the forensic anthropologist said.

          “But if he was buried beneath the pad wouldn’t his entire body have been encased in it?”  Booth wondered.

          “I know why he smells funny!”  Hodgins exclaimed leaving everyone to turn their attention to him.

          “What is it?”  Brennan asked.

          “Wooden casket pieces covered in some sort of lacquer.  Explains why the clothes and headdress survived for so long.  He was practically hermetically sealed in a wooden cedar casket except for these tiny holes,” the entomologist showed her a piece of the casket he’d found underneath the body that appeared to be near a corner of the rectangular box.

          “The jarring of the earth by the digger destroyed the casket’s top and also help protect the evidence except for his head,” Brennan nodded.

          “I’m guessing lacquer and coffins are not a Mattaponi thing are they?” Booth raised an eyebrow.

          “They most certainly are not.  Yet this man wears the traditional garb,” Billy’s confusion was evident.

          “His death isn’t as nearly as confusing,” Brennan said.

          “How do you figure?”  Skye wondered.

          “There is a hole is his sternum and several areas where bullets may have hit his ribs.  Simon will have to examine him more closely at the Lab,” she told them.

          “Then I must go with the body,” Billy said.  Brennan looked at Booth and he just gave a shrug.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Monday at 5:00 pm**

          “All right, quitting time,” Simon smiled as he placed the bones of the World War Two soldier he’d been working on back into the storage box.

          “Be back tomorrow buddy,” the intern told the bones as he placed the box back on the shelf.

          “Ah there you are Simon.  The body has just arrived from Dr. Brennan’s crime scene,” Cam entered the room.

          “I take that back,” he said.  The coroner looked at him with a raised eyebrow before leaving the room.  Quickly Simon followed and found Angela up on the platform with a man he did not recognize.

          “Cam this is Mattaponi Tribal Elder Billy Trout.  He came with the body,” Angela smiled as she introduced him.

          “Dr. Brennan did say we were going to have a visitor.  Welcome to the Jeffersonian,” Cam shook his hand before introducing Simon.

          “I appreciate the warm welcome and I do not wish to get in your way but Tribal Law dictates that a Tribal Elder must be present at all autopsies of Mattaponi people, no matter where they occur.  Many times our ancestors have been disturbed from their final resting places and if procedure is not followed, those of us who believe the old legends, fear what will happen,” Billy explained.

          “Well at least you aren’t holding us at gunpoint,” Cam joked.

          “I should think my presence will be enough,” Billy seemed confused but let it slide.

          “Dr. Brennan says that he was buried approximately forty years ago.  I concur with that estimate but I’m confused as to how the bones remain so clean,” Simon interrupted.

          “Dr. Hodgins said something about hermetically sealed inside the coffin,” Billy walked over to the young man.

          “That being said though there should have been more flesh.  Despite the fact that there are holes approximately twenty-five point four millimeters (one inch) in diameter, there is no way all of that decomposed flesh went out through the holes.  They would have clogged and very likely left flesh inside the lacquered coffin,” Simon said.

          “Not if it let insects in,” Hodgins’ voice floated over to him from the computer camera feed at the closest computer terminal.

          “This is true.  The smell would have attracted worms and beetles.  It would be too far underground for fly larvae,” the intern nodded.

          “So you think he was eaten by Mother Earth from those tiny holes?”  Billy asked.

          “Quite possible.  We must conclude from where and how he was buried that the initial murder scene was someplace else.  Although finding it won’t be easy after forty years,” Cam spoke up.

          “I’m afraid I was but a boy forty years ago.  If he disappeared from the reservation, I would have heard about it.  However if it were in town, it would be quite possible that my parents would have known about it.  Unfortunately they both passed just last year,” Billy’s demeanor changed slightly and Cam nodded.  Losing a parent wasn’t easy, losing both at the same time, even worse.

          “Sheriff Skye here Billy,” the Native American lawman came into view on the screen.

          “Go ahead Sheriff,” the Tribal Elder said.

          “I’ve been going through our records with Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan and so far nothing about a missing person or suspected murder forty years ago.  Sheriff Koch is checking the West Point records,” Skye explained before the video call ended.

          “This is all very odd,” Billy shook his head.

          “We deal with odd everyday sir.  We’ll figure this out,” Simon smiled.

          “I hope so.  I have brought a stand for the headdress.  It must be regarded highly when you touch it,” the Native American went for the duffel bag he brought and retrieved the stand. 

          “It looks like it was damaged by the digger but at least I can give Angela the skull, once I piece it back together,” the intern looked at the damaged bone and heaved a sigh.  It was like a jigsaw puzzle and it had about five hundred pieces, some of them tiny shards.

“Well what little flesh remains, I get to take first so remove what you can of the clothing and then wheel him into autopsy.  I’ll be right back,” Cam ordered.  She quickly ducked back into her office and closed the door.  Her next move was to call Booth.

          “Booth,”

          “It’s Cam,”

          “Give me a second,” she assumed that the FBI agent left the room he was in for some privacy. 

          “Ok, what’s up?”  Booth asked.

          “The Mattaponi Tribe has been acknowledged by Virginia’s Commonwealth's Governors and Attorneys General for their intellectual contributions and for their protection of Mattaponi rights across all forms of the United States government.  If we discover that this is in fact a Mattaponi murdered by some white guy, things are going to get ugly,” Cam said.

          “I know that’s why this Mr. Seaford who owns the land and the construction company isn’t so thrilled.  I’ve got the office checking into him.  Are you afraid it is a Mattaponi lying in autopsy?”  Booth wondered.

          “That or someone meant to look like a Mattaponi.  Either way I’m not sure Billy Trout will be very happy.  He is going to want what is rightfully theirs,” the coroner explained.

          “Well keep me in the loop.  We’re still looking for files; they don’t exactly have the best records from forty years ago.  Seems the Tribal Council directly after them was better about the files,” he said before hanging up.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Mattaponi Police Station, Tuesday at 8:00 am**

          “Going to be another hot one Sheriff,” Deputy Timmy Newton told him as he entered the doublewide trailer.

          “How can you tell Timmy?”  Skye asked without looking up from the piles of paperwork stacked on the only long table they had. 

          “Dan’s cows are under all the trees.  Not a single one out in the open,” Newton smirked as he removed his cowboy hat and set it on his desk.  The three desks took up much of the floor space and toward the back of the trailer there was a tiny break room.  It held a small fridge and a counter with the microwave and toaster.  Under the counter was where they kept the extra paper products and cleaning supplies.  Directly next to the break room was the restroom.  It held a toilet and a small sink.  In the front of the trailer, there were two small (hardly ever used) interrogation rooms.

          “Then we’d best make sure everyone has got working air conditioning.  When Nick gets in, you two head out to all the old timers places,” the Sheriff told him as he faced the Deputy.

          “You’ve got it boss.  I think I hear his truck pulling up now,” Timmy smiled and headed back out the door.

          “Morning Sheriff,” Booth smiled as he and Brennan entered the trailer from the door that Timmy had just exited.

          “Good morning.  I went to storage last night and pulled up the remaining boxes that could possibly fit your time frame.  Hopefully these are in better shape, organizationally speaking,” the Native American smiled.

          “Logic would seem to state that they wouldn’t,” Brennan told them.

          “Way to look on the bright side of things Bones,” Booth shook his head.

          “Let me fire up the air conditioner.  It’s going to be hot later on and this old unit takes about two hours to get its act in gear,” Skye smirked as he walked toward the break room and got the window AC unit to start.

          “It works really hard huh?”  The G-man wondered.

          “You have no idea but once it finally manages to spit out cool air, we’ll be in good shape,” the Sheriff sat down across from the partners and divided the piles evenly.

          “Sheriff I…” Brennan started.

          “Please call me Steve.  Hardly anyone ever calls me that unless it’s my wife when she needs something,” he smirked slightly and Booth gave a small chuckle.

          “Steve, Timmy said something about cows being related to the weather.  I was a little confused by his strange assumption,” the forensic anthropologist said.  This made Skye chuckle.

          “One of our dairy farmers, Dan Prescott, has these cows that will always look for shade under his large flowering trees.  When that happens, it usually means we’ll be cooking lunch up on the roof,” he explained.

          “On the roof?”  Booth asked.

          “Best place to use the heat and the sun for Nick’s solar cooker,” Skye told them.

          “How very economical,” Brennan nodded in approval.

          “More like we don’t want to cook our hot dogs in the microwave,” the Sheriff laughed again before they got down to business.

          Not long after they started, the phone on one of the desks rang and Skye left his chair to get it.

          “Mattaponi Police, this is Sheriff Skye speaking,” Booth and Brennan continued to sort the paperwork in front of them and paid little attention to the call until the lawman got off the phone a few minutes later.

          “Looks like Sheriff Koch found some useful cases in his batch.  I told him we weren’t done yet and he said to meet him as soon as we could,” Steve explained.

          “Great.  Don’t take this the wrong way but you have computers so why isn’t all this stuff in some sort of system?”  Booth asked.

          “Because no one wanted to tackle what we’re doing right now.  Besides I know every person here.  None of them have ever committed any major felonies and the misdemeanors usually occur over farming squabbles or a few things that have occurred in town,” Skye answered honestly.

          “So everyone here is a peace loving type of person?”  The FBI agent asked.

          “Well now I didn’t say that,” the Sheriff said.  Booth nodded thoughtfully before heading back into his pile of paperwork.

**The West Point Police Precinct One, Tuesday at 11:00 am**

          “Looks like you guys came up empty,” Sheriff Koch said as he ushered the three of them into his office.

          “Nothing here about missing persons.  What did you get?”  Skye wondered.

          “I’ve got about ten cases in total.  Most of which came from the court clerks pulling an all-nighter down in the courthouse basement,” Koch explained.

          “All ten match our victim?”  Booth raised an eyebrow.

          “Well considering we didn’t have much to go on yet, I had the clerks pull all of them.  A few were female but the remaining ten are all males,” Johnny said.

          “I gave a specific age group and you still had ten missing?”  Brennan was slightly alarmed by the number considering West Point’s small population of close to three thousand.

          “Well forty years ago puts us in the post-Vietnam period.  We had boys coming home and their families not understanding what they now call PTSD,” Koch said.

          “So I’m guessing your crime rate spiked,” Booth nodded.

          “It did.  The Sheriff at the time did the best he could but it didn’t seem like there was much he could do.  After him, every Sheriff is reminded of those incidents that took place and is expected to teach his deputies to look for the signs as well.  We don’t have many people here in the war overseas at the moment so I think we’ll fair better,” the Sheriff was optimistic.

          “Well I’d like to send the files along to the Jeffersonian and see if they can’t get a match,” Brennan said.

          “You do that.  I’ll have Martha help you.  I must warn you however.  None of the missing men are Mattaponi,” Koch said.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Tuesday at 1:00 pm**

          “So how do you want to handle this?”  Simon asked Cam as the intern made sure the door was closed behind him.  In order for the evidence chain of custody to not be broken, Billy Trout had to stay outside autopsy.  He still watched with interest near the doorway as he continued to up hold Tribal Law.  Before Simon had entered autopsy, he told him that he was making good progress on the skull and wondered if he wanted to take a look.  Billy nodded and headed back toward the platform where Angela let the Native American enter with a swipe of her access card.

          “What do you mean?”  The coroner was confused.

          “Dr. Brennan faxed records for West Point over to us.  The identity of our victim remains a mystery but we now know that whoever he is, he isn’t Mattaponi.  Skeletal structure indicates Asian decent and the files leave us with a similar conclusion.  Out of ten files, two are Asian,” Simon explained.

          “So you mean I have to tell Billy that the man on my table is not Mattaponi and that someone had stolen the traditional clothing from the reservation?”  Cam didn’t like the sound of that.

          “Afraid so.  You want Booth to break it to him instead?”  The intern wondered.

          “No, I think Sheriff Skye should break it to him.  This way we can continue our work and they can decide what they want to do.  After all tribal artifacts were stolen and I’m not quite sure how Mattaponi law handles those types of things,” Cam told him.

          “Good call.  I’ll try to call Booth and we’ll set up some sort of video conference,” Simon nodded.

          “Excellent.  I should be done with the body soon and hopefully you can attach it to the head,” the Head of the Forensics department said.  Simon nodded again before leaving the room and heading for a phone in a quiet portion of the building.

*********

          “How do you want to proceed?”  Skye asked the Tribal Elder after he finished explaining what they found.

          “I will need to discuss this with the Tribal Council.  I will get a ride back to West Point and then you will escort me to our meetinghouse.  Call up the other elders and alert them to an emergency meeting,” Billy told him.

          “Right away,” Skye nodded and the video call ended.

          “You will need the headdress and outfit to remain correct?”  Billy turned to Cam.

          “Yes, there could be some evidence on them that will solve this murder,” she explained.

          “Very well.  Just know that the full weight of the Mattaponi tribe will come down on those responsible for this,” Trout told her before security helped him to a waiting Jeffersonian car outside the lab.  The vehicle would be used to give Hodgins a ride back to the lab since his work out in West Point was done.

          “I would not want to piss that guy off,” Cam said.

          “I can’t blame him for being upset,” Angela commented.

          “Neither can I.  Just be glad he isn’t coming after you.  Any luck with a simulation for how our victim was killed?”  The boss changed the subject.

          “I’ve got the height of the victim into the system and I’ve added the Mattaponi clothing on it.  Since there didn’t appear to be any shirt material I could assume he was bare-chested but that’s all I’ve got so far.  Simon hasn’t been able to look at the bones yet so…”

          “He’ll have the body soon enough,” Cam took the hint and headed back into autopsy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Mai Lin’s home, West Point, Virginia, Tuesday at 3:00 pm**

          “I’ve known this lady for years.  She never mentioned a husband,” Sheriff Koch said as he, Booth, and Brennan approached the small colonial ranch house.  Despite the fact that the woman who owned it, Mai Lin, was nearly ninety years old, the house had a fresh coat of paint and the yard had been meticulously mowed. 

          “I certainly hope she didn’t do all this work be herself,” Booth was concerned a little old lady like that would have collapsed from heat stroke or a heart attack.  Sheriff Koch nodded as he rang the doorbell.

          “Mai’s a tough lady but I doubt she did this on her own,” he said.

          “Can I help you?”  A middle aged Asian woman asked.

          “I’m Sheriff Koch, this is Special Agent Seeley Booth and Dr. Brennan from the Jeffersonian Institute, we need to speak with Mai,” the sheriff introduced everyone.

          “She just went down for a nap.  Maybe I can help?”  The woman still hadn’t introduced herself.

          “We really need to speak with her,” Koch said without being forceful.

          “Ok, I’ll get her up,” the middle-aged woman let them in, showing them to the sofa before walking a short distance down the hall to one of the rooms on the right.  Brennan listened intently as they spoke in their native tongue.

          “Anything good Bones?”  Booth wanted to know.

          “They aren’t speaking in Korean, which is odd considering she claimed South Korean ancestry upon entering this country,” she told him.  Before Booth could say anything, the older lady was on her way back down the hall with the aid of the younger woman.  Mai took the large plush armchair that matched the sofa across from the couch.  She had a slight smile on her face.

          “So what can I do for you?”  The elderly woman asked.

          “Sorry to disturb you Mai but we recently discovered a body over by the grocery store and your husband’s name came up in part of the investigation.  You’ll have to pardon me for saying so but I didn’t even know you had a husband,” Koch said.

          “I haven’t had one for forty years or at least I haven’t seen him.  He went to see a building we were looking at for a restaurant and never came back.  I filed a report with the sheriff at the time and there really hasn’t been any news since,” Mai told them.  She didn’t seem as upset as Booth thought she would be but to Brennan it made perfect sense.  Mai had come to terms with the disappearance of her husband.  If by some chance the body wasn’t her husband, he was most likely dead.  His age now would have been ninety-three; people were living longer but the odds just made it unlikely.

          “You’re not originally from South Korea are you?”  The forensic anthropologist wanted to know.

          “Pardon?”  The younger woman gave her a look.

          “Well you don’t speak Korean and your facial structure confirms you are not of Korean decent,” Brennan was succinct.  Mai heaved a sigh.  The younger woman looked at her without saying anything but the look of uneasiness was unmistakable.

          “There is no point in lying anymore, Huyen.  There is a very good chance that your father never came back because he couldn’t,” Mai frowned. 

          “We’re not looking to question your citizenship, we just want to solve a murder,” Booth spoke up.  Lying on a visa and then again on their citizenship paperwork could get them deported and at Mai’s age that would not be good especially should the victim not turn out to be her husband.

          “My husband, Duc, and I brought Huyen here during the war.  Duc knew someone who would give us Korean passports and get us out of the country.  He smuggled us to Saigon two years before its fall and then we made it to a boat bound for South Korea.  While some who we rode in the boat with stayed in Korea, we wanted to get out of Asia.  The U.S. promised us a fresh start.  After arriving in Los Angeles, we tried to make a life there but when we learned that a cousin of Duc’s had made it to Washington D.C. and we moved out here to help him adjust and care for Duc’s aunt.”  The elderly woman explained.

          “We’d like dental records so we can compare your husband’s teeth to the body,” Brennan said.

          “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.  We had no health coverage and could not afford a dentist.  His last visit was back in Vietnam.  I have no doubt those records did not make it through the war,” Mai sighed.

          “Then we’ll have to rely on our forensic artist’s talented fingers,” Booth gave her a smile before standing.  Brennan and Sheriff Koch stood as well.

          “Thanks for your time Mai.  I hope we can clear this up,” Koch told her.

          “Thank you Sheriff and thank you Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth,” the elderly woman said.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Tuesday at 5:00 pm**

          “Angela, how is the facial reconstruction coming?”  Brennan asked from her chair in front of the desk in the hotel room she and Booth shared.  The partners had returned to their room after talking with Mai, hoping to get word from both the FBI and the Jeffersonian.

          “Hi Sweetie.  Simon gave me the skull and I’m attempting to get a face as we speak.  I’ve also started cataloging injuries in an attempt to separate the damage created by the digger and the damage done from actual bullet wounds.  I have managed to confirm at least five wounds; one to the sternum and four grazes to the rib cage.  There are what appears to be more on the lower torso and legs.  As far as the weapon, I’ll be looking for that once the injury analysis is complete.  Cam is running a DNA test but no luck with useable fingerprints since the insects got there first,” the forensic artist smiled.

          “What about Hodgins?  Has he found anything useful on the coffin or from the insects?”  The forensic anthropologist wanted to know.

          “I’ll go…” Angela began before hearing footsteps behind her.  Swirling around in her chair, she saw the entomologist enter her office.

          “Speak of the devil,” she smirked.

          “He’s just a conspiracy created by religion to keep their followers in line,” Jack said.

          “Bugs Hodgins,” Brennan refocused the attention on her.

          “Insect activity only confirms what you concluded earlier.  What insects I did find were mostly skeletal or gone altogether.  The worms weren’t of much use either.  However the coffin and the lacquer had something of interest,” Hodgins enlightened her.

          “What did you find?”  Brennan was getting anxious.

          “The chemical makeup of the lacquer is what makes it act like a preservative.  After piecing together the lid, I discovered fingerprints on the interior.  Whoever buried him didn’t wait for the lacquer to dry completely,” the entomologist said.

          “Do you think you can match the fingerprints to someone?”  Booth cut in after getting off his cell phone.

          “I’m in the process of lifting prints,” Hodgins explained.

          “Great.  Let us know when you get a hit,” Booth said before closing the lid on the laptop.

          “Was it just me of did he seem anxious?”  The bug guy wondered.

          “You’d be in a hurry too if you had your girlfriend all to yourself,” Angela teased.

          “I always am but you seem to be playing hard to get Miss Montenegro,” Jack smirked before exiting his office.

          Back at the hotel room in West Point, Booth didn’t have any ideas about being romantic.  His call to his office had yielded some interesting results.

          “Raymond Seaford has had run ins with the Mattaponi before,” he explained.

          “Oh?  What kind of run ins?”  Brennan asked.

          “The kind where he’s somehow gotten legal rights to tribal land without the Tribe’s consent.  When my office inquired about him through the criminal database, a red flag popped up at the Attorney General’s Office.  They’re investigating him for bribery, fraud, and larceny,” Booth told her.

          “Explains why the Mattaponi have men working on his job sites,” Brennan nodded.

          “It also gives them motive to try to ruin him,” her partner said.

          “You think an upset Mattaponi killed our victim, stole authentic tribal clothing, and then buried him, hoping to catch Seaford on tribal lands?”  She was skeptical.

          “It doesn’t make much sense but the body was buried at a construction site.  Also who else would have access to the clothing the victim was wearing?”  Booth wondered.

          “Supposing your theory is correct, why was the body not discovered back when the store was being built?”  The forensic anthropologist asked.

          “You said that there were Mattaponi working for this Seaford guy.  Why would he be trying to steal Mattaponi land and then hire the very people he’s trying to swindle?”  The G-man thought about the entire situation and came up with a very simple solution.

          “Money.  The workers needed to make money and he was willing to pay them.  They would tell him what they knew if they discovered something on a job site and before the news went public, Seaford would just not even bother to report it.  Should someone report what they saw to the Mattaponi then he’d have his guys create the phony documentation required to keep the property,” Booth said.

          “Very plausible.  In the sixties, the times were changing rapidly.  If Seaford was the only one to be hiring non-whites, then perhaps his workers felt indebted to him and would do anything to keep their jobs,” Brennan nodded.

          “I’m calling the Attorney General.  Maybe what he has on Seaford can help us get the information we need,” her partner smiled.


	8. Chapter 8

**Seaford Development, Wednesday at 9:00 am**

          “I hope you’re coming to tell me my crews can begin working again,” Raymond Seaford said without looking up from the paperwork on his desk as the partners entered his office.

          “No such luck I’m afraid.  The construction site has been officially declared a crime scene,” Booth told him flatly as they took the two chairs in front of the desk.

          “A crime scene?  This guy has been dead for hundreds of years.  What crime could you possibly solve?”  Seaford looked up from his work with a raised eyebrow.

          “Our victim has only been dead forty years, which is why we’re here.  You owned the old office complex that used to reside on that piece of property.  Someone killed our victim and buried him at your construction site,” Booth explained.

          “What crazy bastard did that?”  The businessman asked.

          “We’re attempting to find that out but we need your employment records from nineteen sixty-nine to nineteen seventy-one,” the G-Man said with all seriousness.

          “Employment records from forty years ago?  The only person still working here from that long ago is me.  I founded this company in nineteen sixty-five at the age of twenty-six.  The only reason I’m still working is because I have no one to take over the business for me,” Seaford told them.

          “And you didn’t keep your files?”  Brennan looked incredulously at him. 

          “It’ll take me a day or so to get them,” Raymond heaved a sigh.

          “The quicker you do it, the quicker we can release the crime scene,” Booth gave a smirk before standing to leave.  Brennan followed suit and they heard Seaford call his secretary as they left.

          “So what next?”  The forensic anthropologist asked as they climbed into the SUV.

          “I’d call the Jeffersonian again to see if they have anything otherwise we’re waiting for Seaford.  With any luck our killers are on that list he’s looking for and hopefully still alive so we can question them.  It’d be nice to have a murder weapon but I doubt we’ll get that lucky.  By now someone has thrown it into a lake or a landfill by now,” Booth heaved a sigh as he pulled the large vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the road.

          “I wouldn’t hold my breath on any new evidence since last night,” Brennan said as she pulled out her phone.

          “You’re right but I hate sitting around doing nothing,” he smiled as he turned the SUV down the road on the right.  His partner smiled slightly before pushing the speed dial button for Angela.

          “Angela Montenegro,”

          “Hi Angela, you’re on speaker,”

          “Hey Sweetie, if you’re calling for new evidence I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait.  Jack’s fingerprints weren’t in the criminal database and my computer is still trying to match a caliber to the bullet holes it found.  There was a total of thirteen bullet holes in our victim,” the forensic artist explained.

          “Thirteen bullet holes?  What did this guy do to piss someone off that much?”  Booth asked.

          “I have no idea but hopefully we’ll have a caliber soon.  I had to load the typical rounds from the late sixties, early seventies into the system, that’s why it’s taking so long,” Angela said.

          “Have Hodgins check the military database for the fingerprints.  We may get lucky,” Brennan could see from the look on her partner’s face he’d had an idea, which is why he’d brought it up.

          “You got it.  I’ll call back soon.  Oh and Sweetie before I go, Champ is miserable without you.  I tried to get him to chase that rubber squeaky toy you had and he just looked at it with those big puppy dog eyes,” her friend told her.

          “That’s because Booth got him that toy and they play together with it.  I can’t even get him to play with it.  Try to give him some of those green tooth-cleaning bones.  He enjoys them,” Brennan said.

          “Ok will do.  Talk to you later,” with that Angela hung up and Brennan put her phone away.

          “Here we are,” Booth said as he killed the engine.

          “Where exactly?”  The forensic anthropologist asked.

          “This would have been the restaurant that Duc and Mai would have started,” Booth explained as they both climbed out of the car.

          “It’s owned by Seaford Development.  Is everything in this town owned by him?”  She wondered as she pointed to the “For Sale” sign outside the now dilapidated coin Laundromat.

          “It sure seems that way.  Why don’t we see if we can have a look around,” her partner said.

          “Anything of use would have been destroyed by now between the construction and all the detergent around here,” Brennan told him.

          “True but the fact that they left washing machines in here is interesting,” Booth smirked and strode to the front door.  The front of the building was glass windows with a glass door that would have shown off the customers inside.

          “I couldn’t imagine washing your unmentionables in front of everyone driving by,” he said surprised to find the front door unlocked.  Brennan followed him inside a little concerned.  Booth found an old newspaper in a broken frame sitting on top one of the folding tables at the end of a row of dryers toward the back of the Laundromat.  There was a bare spot on the wall where it should have been hanging.

          “Hey Bones look at the date on this,” he called her over and she made her way through the machines toward him.  She blew the dust off the paper, puffing a cloud of the filth into the air.  Booth coughed while she pulled it close to read.

          “April fifteenth, nineteen-seventy.  The headline reads ‘New Laundromat to Open’.  Below is a picture with a caption,” Brennan explained.

          “Yeah look who it is,” Booth said.

          “That’s our other missing Asian, Lee Chang,” her eyes went wide.

          “Exactly.  Tell me it’s a coincidence both men went missing and that they were both going after this specific piece of property,” her partner said.

          “Didn’t you tell me that there were no coincidences in a murder investigation?”  She asked.

          “Exactly, Bones.  Exactly,” Booth nodded.


	9. Chapter 9

**Seaford Development, Thursday at 3:00 pm**

          “Thank you so much for your cooperation,” Booth said as he took the paper records handed to him by Raymond Seaford.

          “Just clear my construction site and I’ll be more than happy,” Seaford just gave him a look and then turned back to the plans on his desk.  Booth took it as his cue to leave and quickly left.  Climbing into the SUV he placed the files on the seat next to him and fired the vehicle up.  Moving into traffic, he wormed his way through the city streets until he reached Precinct One of the West Point Police Department.  Parking the SUV, he entered the precinct and was escorted back to the Sheriff’s office. 

          “So Dr. Brennan has been filling me in on what has been going on.  So the fingerprints found in the lacquer belong to Corporal Peter Kistler of the USMC.  Any link to Seaford Development?”  Koch asked.

          “We’re about to find out,” Booth handed over the files and took a seat next to Brennan in front of the Sheriff’s desk.  The three of them quickly went through the folders.

          “Found him.  Kistler joined Seaford Development in ninety sixty-nine.  According to his military record, he was honorably discharged that same year,” Koch said.

          “So that’s our link to the body and the site.  It still leaves questions about the Mattaponi tribal outfit and our missing Mr. Chang,” Brennan was beginning to wonder how the two cases connected at all.

          “Without Chang’s body, it’s going to be awfully difficult to prove that he’s actually dead.  By now Chang would be ninety five, if he somehow survived an attack there’s a good chance he won’t be talking anyway,” the Sheriff heaved a sigh.

          “Does Chang have family in the area?”  Booth wanted to know.

          “No.  He came into this country alone.  According to the file, the only reason someone noticed he was missing was because when they came to pick up their dry cleaning it was still hanging exactly where they left it.  Calling his home got no response and that’s when they sent a deputy out to his house.  No one was home but the car was still in the driveway.  Inside the home, there were no signs of a struggle.  No indications that he went away without telling anyone, so the case went cold in a hurry.  The Laundromat closed shortly after an official investigation was started.  There was no evidence of a crime at the facility but the Sheriff at the time didn’t want release it from being a possible crime scene.  Seaford went on the news and made a big show of stopping the rent payments for the guy until he could be found.  Claiming that Chang being a pillar of the community would no doubt come back.  He never has and I’m pretty sure that by now Seaford doesn’t need the money from the old man,” Koch explained.

          “Seaford could have ripped that building apart and sold it.  Why didn’t he?”  Booth wondered.

          “Beats me.  Unless…” the Sheriff paused in his thought.

          “I’ll call the Jeffersonian and get some ground penetrating radar,” Brennan spoke up.

          “You think somebody killed him and buried him on the premises?”  Koch raised an eyebrow.

          “How else do you explain the fact that a forty year old parking lot has been freshly paved while the building behind it has been forgotten?”  The forensic anthropologist asked.

          “I like your thinking Bones.  Now I believe it’s time to make a trip down to the VA and visit Corporal Kistler.  Lets see what he has to say about his fingerprints and access to the construction site,” Booth stood from his chair and Brennan followed suit.

          “Sounds good.  I’m having a deputy run a search of weapons that he legally owned.  With any luck, we’ll come up with what he shot Duc Lin with and he might even still own it,” Koch smiled.

          “Thanks Sheriff,” Booth nodded.  With that the two partners were out the door and leaving the precinct.

          “Does it bother you if we have to arrest Corporal Kistler?”  Brennan asked as they climbed into the SUV.

          “Why would it bother me?”  Booth raised an eyebrow as he put the key into the ignition.

          “Well he’s sixty-five years old and in poor health. Not only that he served with distinction,” she said.  Her partner nodded.  Inside Kistler’s military file, it showed he’d been wounded twice in combat and had received the Purple Heart.

          “This whole case bothers me Bones,” he said.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hunter Holmes McGuire VA Medical Center, Richmond Virginia, Thursday at 5:00 pm**

                Booth and Brennan arrived at the hospital about an hour after departing West Point.  The Hunter Holmes McGuire VA Medical Center was the closest VA facility to West Point and was one of the few places in the state that would accept veterans using their benefits.  Due to Corporal Kistler’s injuries, he had received the Purple Heart, and as such received preferential treatment.

          “I’m FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth and this is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian.  We need to see Corporal Peter Kistler,” he flashed his badge and the receptionist quickly picked up the phone and called the Nursing Supervisor.

          “The Nursing Supervisor, Susan Hill, will be down shortly.  Please have a seat,” she pointed to a couple of chairs not far from the desk and the partners took a seat.

          “You don’t suppose something has happened to the Corporal,” Brennan wondered.

          “It’s probably just procedure.  I know when folks call nine-one-one from Hank’s place a police officer shows up.  Most of the time it isn’t anything but someone dialing the wrong number or the occasional borderline assisted living patient who thinks they are being abused because they didn’t get their cookie with dinner,” Booth explained.

          “People really dial nine-one-one for that?”  Brennan was finding it far fetched.

          “The guy in the room next to Hank did,” he shrugged.  His partner shook her head and was about to say something when a woman approached them wearing high heels that made a distinctive noise on the tile floor.

          “Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan?”  She asked.

          “Yes ma’am,” Booth nodded.

          “Lets go speak in my office,” the Nursing Supervisor said.  She had yet to make a formal introduction but that was probably because her name was on her long white lab coat.  Susan led them down a hallway where a door that required a swipe card allowed them into the administrative spaces.  They took a sharp right at the third door on the right and she offered them seats.

          “It’s not everyday that we get the FBI coming around to ask questions of our patients,” Susan said after taking the seat behind her desk.

          “We believe that the Corporal may have witnessed two murders after he returned from duty.  We’d like to ask him some questions about finding his fingerprints on a piece of key evidence,” Booth told her.

          “I’m afraid that will be very difficult to do.  What do you know about his military service?”  The Nursing Supervisor asked.

          “Only that he’d been shot twice and received a Purple Heart,” Brennan told her.

          “Corporal Kistler received two wounds in Vietnam that cause irreparable damage to his right arm and forced him to live without a kidney when the donor kidney failed back in nineteen eighty.  When he came home, his undiagnosed PTSD caused him to literally go insane after severe bouts of insomnia, depression, and failed suicide attempts.  Currently he is kept under heavy sedation and is under going dialysis three times a week since his other kidney began to fail due to the medications and suicide attempts.  He isn’t healthy enough to receive a new kidney and it is unfortunate but I fear he will not be long for this earth,” Susan didn’t pull any punches.

          “What kind of damage to his arm are we talking about?”  Brennan wanted to know.

          “A large caliber bullet went through his right wrist.  Medically there were limited options as far as repairing tendons and ligaments.  The arm was casted in the field until he reached a M.A.S.H unit where the doctor was unable to repair the damage.  Currently the Corporal has a prosthetic hand and a reconstructed forearm,” Susan explained.

          “How was he then hired for a construction job?”  Booth asked.

          “The Corporal is left handed,” the Nursing Supervisor answered.

          “So when his job title was demolitions expert, he could have performed his duties?”  Brennan was uncertain how that would work.  A person needed steady hands for a job like that and having a prosthetic from the early seventies would not have been sufficient for such work.

          “He should not have been.  The explosions would have made his PSTD worse,” Susan’s concern was evident.

          “Basically we won’t be able to talk to him,” Booth said.

          “No, I’m afraid not.  Most of the medications we give him only put him in a trance like state at best.  He hasn’t been the real Peter Kistler in many many years.  His first admission here was back in nineteen seventy-one.  Ever since then our specialists have continued to try to bolster his mental state but we have yet to find the right types of medications and even when we think we’ve found something, he will stop taking his medications, claiming that they make him feel strange.  Short of literally forcing him to swallow, we have run out of options.  His last admission was in nineteen eighty and he has remained here ever since due to his kidney condition along with his mental acuity,” she told them.

          “Is there anyone who comes to visit him?”  The G-man wondered.

          “He has no living family left.  His parents died in nineteen ninety-six in a horrific car crash involving a tractor-trailer.  They were on their way to visit him, which only forced him deeper into his own head.  He has no siblings and he’s never spoken of any grandparents.  I’ll have our receptionist pull up the visitor logs and see what we have,” Susan promised.

          “We’d appreciate that,” Booth smiled and stood up from his chair.  The group left the office and waited around for the receptionist to make copies of the most recent logs.  She promised to send all the remaining logs she could find to the West Point Police.

          On the way back to West Point, the partners sat in silence.  The information was hard to process.  The only thing for certain was that Peter Kistler had an accomplice and they needed to find him.


	11. Chapter 11

**The West Point Police Precinct One, Friday at 8:00 am**

          “Ok so we know that there is no way that Corporal Kistler should have been handling explosives and we know that he had to have an accomplice to commit these murders,” Booth sat on top of the closest desk to the cork board layout of suspects that was in the detective’s bull pen area just outside Sheriff Koch’s office.

          “It would not have been impossible for him to shoot the weapon needed to kill Chang or Lin,” Brennan said.  She stood not far from him.

          “You don’t think so?  I mean the man only had one good hand,” Sheriff Koch was skeptical.

          “He was also a trained Marine.  Despite not having a hand, I don’t see it slowing him down when it came to something as familiar as a gun,” Booth told him.

          “I’m with Agent Booth.  He would have had the upper body strength to hold up the weapon and fire.  Assuming the weapon is of course larger than a handgun,” Sheriff Skye nodded.

          “I had my office check into what weapons Corporal Kistler owned and he didn’t have any registered.  However, his dad, well that’s a whole ‘nother story,” at this point, the G-man got up off the desk and stuck a page of the report he’d received to the board with a push pin.

          “His dad owned hunting rifles, shotguns, and a thirty-eight,” he explained.

          “So access to weapons wasn’t a problem but something is bothering me.  What would set off a good Marine into killing two men that had nothing to do with anything?”  Koch wanted to know.

          “I’m thinking this ties all back to Raymond Seaford.  Why hire a man who has shown signs of mental difficulties and has a prosthetic hand for an explosives job?  I would not be surprised if used him like a hired gun.  All he’d have to do is tell the Corporal that someone was Viet Cong and the Marine would do the rest,” Booth said.

          “Plausible but he wouldn’t then dress Duc Lin up as one of my people.  Seaford has shown contempt for us ever since he lost out on his first property due to remains of my ancestors,” Sheriff Skye pointed out.  Booth nodded as the Native American lawman had a point.  Brennan’s phone rang and she excused herself. 

          “Well we know that Duc and Lee were after the same building.  Lee won out and opened his coin Laundromat and dry cleaners.  Seaford wouldn’t have cared who won as long as the rent was going to get paid.  Duc goes missing and a month later Lee opens his business,” Koch said.

          “So you think that Lee had Duc off’ed and then somebody killed him too?”  Booth raised an eyebrow.

          “That sounds like it would work although how would Lee get his hands on a Mattaponi tribal outfit?”  Skye wished he could piece it all together.  Every theory they kept coming up with had holes and nothing seemed to fit.

          “That was Angela.  She confirmed that the weapon used to kill Duc Lin was a shotgun that used buckshot.  She also said that the ground penetrating radar should be here in about an hour,” Brennan interrupted their thoughts with the results of her phone call.

          “Any luck with the fingerprints on the casket?”  Booth wondered.

          “No.  Hodgins struck out with the military database,” she explained.

          “So our casket making accomplice isn’t in the system.  Well this doesn’t help,” he shook his head.

          “I hate to make this assumption but what if the reason Duc Lin was dressed in Mattaponi dress is because our accomplice is Mattaponi?”  Sheriff Skye asked.

          “Their fingerprints wouldn’t be in the system and it would explain how someone got their hands on the outfit.  I know that Cam was going over the clothes with a fine toothcomb but hasn’t found anything yet.  What did the Tribal Council say?”  Booth asked the Mattaponi Sheriff.

          “They will wait for the outcome before having their chance to file charges in our courts.  I’m here purely to make sure Mattaponi interests are being served and to help in any way possible,” Skye told him.

          “This fax just came in,” one of the West Point officers delivered the piece of paper to Sheriff Koch.

          “It’s from the VA.  The last of the visitor logs,” the Sheriff said.

          “Who is on there?”  Booth wondered as Koch scanned the list. 

“The last visit he had was from someone who signed ‘Dances with Wolves’.  I guess this will be so helpful,” the West Point lawman shook his head.

“More than you know.  I know a man whose Mattaponi name means just that,” Skye informed them.

“Who?”  Brennan asked.

“He is the oldest member of our tribe, Benjamin Hutte,” Steve said.

“Bones stay with Sheriff Koch and help those ground radar guys.  Sheriff Skye and I have to make a trip to the reservation,” Booth told her.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Mattaponi Reservation, Friday at 10:00 am**

          “So this Benjamin Hutte, he a good guy?”  Booth asked as Sheriff Skye drove his patrol car onto the reservation and towards the home in question.

          “I’ve known him my whole life.  Never figured he’d be in on something like this,” the Sheriff said.

          “Well maybe there is a logical explanation,” the FBI agent told him.  He was hoping he didn’t have to arrest a seventy-year-old man.

          “I hope so because I would hate to have to tell the Tribal Council one of the most respected men in our community is a murderer,” Steve nodded as he pulled into the driveway he’d been looking for.  The two men exited the car and headed for the door of the trailer.  Many of the Mattaponi lived in actual houses but it seemed like Hutte was happy with what he had.

          “Sheriff to what do I owe this pleasure?”  Ben asked as he exited the trailer, ignoring Booth.  The man stood at approximately five foot ten and his face looked a lot like aged leather, wrinkly and tanned from years of hard work.  He dressed in a button-down shirt that had eagles taking flight on the chest area and worn old blue jeans.  His work boots were dotted with something that had left dark stains.

          “This is FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth.  He and I need to ask you some questions,” Skye explained.

          “Well come in then,” Hutte gave a slight smile directed at Booth but the G-man was beginning to wonder if he liked non-Native Americans.

          “Can I get you anything?”  The older gentleman asked as the two lawmen took seats in his living room on the sofa.

          “We’ll have some of your famous lemonade if you got it,” Skye smirked.

          “Coming right up,” Hutte winked.

          “What’s with the winking?”  Booth asked in a low voice.

          “You’ll see,” the Sheriff smiled as Hutte brought out two glasses from the kitchen filled with the yellow drink. 

          “Made a fresh batch this morning,” Ben beamed as though it had been a long drawn out process.  He handed the two men their glasses before taking a seat in an old rocking chair.  Booth took a sip and immediately realized that it wasn’t just powdered drink mix and water.  It burned as it went down.

          “How do you like it Agent Booth?”  Ben asked.

          “Has quite the kick to it,” the G-man smiled.

          “That’s cause it has first class moonshine in it,” the Mattaponi man gave a chuckle.  Sheriff Skye laughed before turning the conversation back to what needed to be said.

          “When did you last visit Peter Kistler?”  He was blunt about it.

          “Oh maybe two, three weeks ago.  Why?”  Ben was surprised by his question.

          “And why’d you sign in as ‘Dances with Wolves’?”  Steve wondered.

          “An old joke between friends.  What does this have to do with anything?”  Hutte wanted to know.

          “We believe that Corporal Kistler killed Duc Lin and Lee Chang back in nineteen seventy.  We need to know how he got his hands on pieces of tribal clothing and why he would have dressed Duc Lin as a Mattaponi,” Booth spoke up. 

          “After all these years… well I guess there is no point in hiding anything.  Peter came to me for help.  I knew him through my son.  The two of them worked together at Seaford Construction,” Ben told them.

          “Why you?”  Booth asked.

          “Because I’m good with my hands.  Every piece of wooden furniture you see in this house, I made.  It didn’t take much to turn the loveseat I was making into a coffin.  Peter came to me all upset because he’d killed someone.  The boy couldn’t help it.  He wasn’t right after he came back from the war.  He had been convinced that the man he killed was Viet Cong and no one could change his mind.  Kept going on that he’d just done what he’d been told but he was afraid of the consequences,” Hutte explained.

          “Who told him to do it?”  Skye asked.

          “I assumed he’d meant the federal government.  Just helped the kid get the body to somewhere it could be gotten rid of,” Ben said.

          “Can your son corroborate your story?”  Booth wanted to know.

          “Yes,” the man nodded.

          “And the clothes?”  Skye asked.

          “That was my idea.  Even if it made Seaford sweat a little it was worth it,” Ben said without remorse.

          “Thank you for being so honest and thank you for the lemonade,” Booth gave a smile and stood up.  His legs wobbled slightly and Sheriff Skye grabbed him.

          “That’s some good moonshine,” the FBI agent smiled.

          “Yes it is but it seems you have had enough,” Steve laughed.  He was used to the alcohol and it was as if he’d only had half a beer. 

          “How am I going to tell Bones that I’m tipsy?”  Booth asked.

          “Just have a cup of coffee when we get back to the office.  It’ll clear up in no time.  Besides you only had half a glass,” the Sheriff pointed out.  The G-man nodded before turning to Ben.

          “The statute of limitations ran out on improperly disposing of a body and any body tampering charges I could file.  That however doesn’t get you off the hook with the Tribal Council,” Booth said.

          “I will take whatever punishment is dished out.  I was only trying to help the poor kid.  He was a war hero and they would have put him in jail.  I know what he did was wrong but he didn’t know what he was doing,” Hutte looked downward. 

          “I’ll talk to the Tribal Council and give you a call later,” Sheriff Skye promised before he and Booth headed back to the precinct.


	13. Chapter 13

**The West Point Police Precinct One, Friday at 2:00 pm**

          “So Bones, what have you got?”  Booth asked when his partner entered the police station.  It was hot out there and she had obviously been sweating.

          “I’ve got something in autopsy.   Thought you two might want to take a look,” she said referring to her partner and Sheriff Skye.

          “Lead the way,” the Mattaponi lawman told her.  Brennan walked through the precinct and out the back door.  The building directly behind it was the city’s morgue and the three entered it.  Sheriff Koch and Doctor Bartholomew Jones greeted them and brought them over to the autopsy table containing their find. 

          “What have we got?”  Booth asked looking at what was left of a body.  There was very little clothing or flesh left.  Beyond that there were obvious signs of broken bones. 

          “We’ve got an Asian male aged approximately fifty-five.  Cause of death is undetermined but we certainly have enough to sift through,” Doctor Jones said.

          “You’ve been in this business a long time doc.  What do you think?”  Sheriff Skye asked.

          “Well given the fact that we found him buried under about five layers of asphalt in the parking lot, I’d say if he wasn’t dead when he went in, the hot paving materials would have burned him alive.  It wouldn’t be a quiet way to go and you certainly wouldn’t be laying asphalt in the middle of the night so I’m guessing he was dead when he went in the hole,” the coroner explained.

          “And all the broken bones?”  Sheriff Koch wanted to know.

          “The heat of the asphalt and the weight of it would have broken some of the bones however I’m more inclined to believe that we’re looking at another blast with buck shot but I can’t confirm that until I’ve completely examined the bones,” Brennan filled in.

          “This had to be covered up by Seaford.  He’s the only one with access to such tools,” Skye pointed out.

          “True but why cover something up that you didn’t orchestrate?”  Brennan asked.

          “What do you mean?”  Booth looked at her confused.

          “If our killer is Corporal Kistler, then Seaford could have used him as a scapelamb and no one would be the wiser,” she said.

          “Scapegoat, Bones and I see your point.  Why make a big show of holding the property for a man you knew wasn’t coming back?  Especially since there would be no need to dig up the parking lot any time soon,” Booth shook his head.

          “Well he certainly didn’t look happy when I served him with the warrant to dig up his property.  I’ve had a patrol car sitting on him at his office until we sort this out in case he tried to run,” Sheriff Koch explained.

          “These men have nothing in common other than the fact they both wanted that piece of property.  What was there before Seaford bought it and turned it into a store front?”  Booth wanted to know.

          “I’ll have my men check into it.  I can’t remember anything being there but then again I wasn’t born until seventy-five,” Koch told them.

          “Was anything else at the site?”  Sheriff Skye asked.

          “The Jeffersonian crew is combing the building and the remainder of the parking lot but nothing so far,” Brennan explained.

          “I know I’m not entirely up to speed on everything but what if Seaford is covering up something because Lee Chang wasn’t supposed to be a target?  What if he was collateral damage?”  Doctor Jones spoke up. 

          “What do you mean?”  Booth gave him a look.

          “Well once the idea of the Viet Cong being in West Point had been planted, he could not shut it off.  Perhaps Raymond Seaford had Duc Lin killed because there was something going on between the two of them.  Seaford knew full well that Kistler was a walking time bomb.  He had to have seen Kistler’s reaction to explosive demo and all he had to do was plant the idea in Kistler’s head.  He tells him to kill Duc Lin.  It did just that.  The only way though he covers it up is if someone saw him do it and breaks him back into reality.  What did Ben Hutte have to say?”  Jones inquired.

          “Apparently not the whole truth,” Booth gritted his teeth.


	14. Chapter 14

**Benjamin Hutte’s Home, Friday at 4:00 pm**

          “Open up Ben,” Sheriff Skye knocked on the door to the trailer and got no response. 

“I’d better go around back,” Booth suggested.  Skye nodded and left the porch looking through the front windows.  Booth headed around back and found the window on the bedroom open.

“Sheriff!”  He called for the Mattaponi lawman and Skye came running.  
          “What is it?”  Steve asked.  Booth pointed to the window and the Sheriff shook his head.

“Let’s go through the front door and see what we’ve got,” Skye told him.  The two quickly went around to the front door and easily entered the trailer, as the door wasn’t locked.

“Ben! I’m here with Agent Booth!  Come out with your hands where we can see them!”  The sheriff shouted but to no avail.  Within moments the trailer had been searched and the elder Mattaponi man wasn’t there.

“He didn’t leave after we visited him the first time.  All his clothes and personal items are still here,” Skye said.

“Something is screwy.  Why would Ben want either Duc Lin or Lee Chang dead?”  Booth asked.

“What makes you think he wanted them dead?”  Steve gave him a look.

“Well the coroner said that someone would have had to of broken Corporal Kistler’s mental block to bring him back to reality.  The only way that happens is if Ben or his son were there when he shot Duc,” the G-man said.

“So one of them watched Duc die and did nothing to stop Peter.  That would certainly fit with what Doc Jones was saying,” Skye nodded before pulling his radio from his shoulder and calling down to his men at the station.

“I want Ben’s place searched forensically and I want this place marked as a crime scene until further notice.  If Ben returns, arrest him on the charge of murder.” 

          “You got it Sheriff.  Be right there,” came the response from which Booth thought was Timmy. 

          “Well you’d better head back to the West Point Precinct.  See what Dr. Brennan has discovered.  I’ll help the boys shift through all this stuff,” Skye said.

          “All right I’ll meet you there,” Booth nodded before heading to his FBI standard issue SUV.  He quickly made his way back to the coroner’s office where he knew he’d find his partner gleaning what she could from the bones of Lee Chang.

          “Booth you have good timing,” she said as he entered the autopsy room.

          “Why is that?”  He asked.

          “I just got off the phone with the lead man out at the Laundromat.  Also Cam called while you were gone,” Brennan smiled.

          “What have you got?”  He smiled back.

          “Cam confirmed that the clothes and headdress were a match to the ones found on the coffin.  Other than that she doesn’t have anything that will help us.  Although Simon and Angela are looking forward to being sent the new body.  The team at the Laundromat found something and have requested my presence at the site,” she explained.

          “Lets roll then,” Booth told her as she stripped off her latex gloves and grabbed her kit.

**The Laundromat, Friday at 5:45 pm**

          “What do you have for me?”  Brennan asked the senior tech in charge whose name was Michael Tamko.

          “What I believe to be authentic Native American artifacts,” he explained.

          “Did you call anyone at the Jeffersonian?”  She wanted to know.

          “I waited until you got here.  I didn’t want to call them to send a team if I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at.  Besides by now there probably isn’t anyone in the archaeology department,” Michael said.

          “He’s right Bones.  After five o’clock on a Friday…” Booth trailed off.

          “Very well.  Let’s have a look,” the forensic anthropologist nodded.  The tech took the partners over to one of the holes that had been made in the asphalt. 

          “Here we found arrow heads,” Michael pointed out.  Brennan nodded and followed him to the next hole.

          “Here we found what appear to be some sort of tools.  Hard to tell since all the wood has long since rotted away.  But the best find is probably inside,” Tamko led the partners inside where they had bore a hole through the concrete floor.

          “Well that explains a lot,” Booth said as he looked down into the hole with a flashlight.

          “We haven’t moved the rest of the flooring because we didn’t want to possibly damage the find,” Michael said.

          “Very smart.  Stop all digging right here.  I’ll call Cam,” Brennan gave a slight smile before pulling out her cell phone.

          “Cam, it’s Brennan.  We have a fascinating discovery.  There is a third body down here.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Coroner’s Office, Saturday at 12:00 pm**

          Brennan stood over the now completely excavated body that was lying on top of the autopsy table.  They had found almost all of it, mostly only the smaller bones were missing.  Not entirely unusual for a body this old.

          “It’s unbelievable.  Have you dated the bones yet?”  Coroner Bartholomew Jones asked.

          “Simon, what is your assessment?”  Brennan wanted to know.

          “Given the age of the body, which we are estimating to be between thirty and thirty-five, the obvious bone markers denoting a hard life, and the fact that no flesh remains, the bare minimum he’s been in the ground would be fifty years.  Although that could have changed depending upon the embalming process if any were preformed,” the intern explained.

          “So he isn’t a Mattaponi?”  Jones wondered.

          “I wouldn’t go that far.  We’re missing the lower half of the jaw but I’d say that our victim was definitely not Caucasian,” Simon said.

          “Very good.  I want every precaution taken with this body.  Run everything you possibly can run to narrow down race and cause of death.  Have the archeology department confirm the other artifacts found at the site.  Call them in if you have to.  I want results as soon as possible,” Brennan ordered her intern and Simon only nodded.  He had been chosen to come to retrieve the artifacts and body with the help of Hodgins.  Brennan didn’t want anything to be left up to UPS if she could manage it.  Doctor Jones followed them out, wanting one more look before it was taken to the Medico-Legal Lab.

          “So Bones, what’s next?”  Booth asked.

          “Once the archeology department and Simon have finished their tasks I will return to the Jeffersonian to announce the find.  At which point, you might want to be arresting Raymond Seaford and Ben Hutte,” his partner explained.

          “Why is that?”  The G-man raised an eyebrow.

          “Because that body is at least three hundred years old.  The tests Simon will run will confirm my preliminary findings,” the forensic anthropologist smirked.   

          “But Simon said…” Booth was confused.

          “Simon would do well in acting school I believe,” Brennan still had the smirk on her face.

          “You mean he lied?”  Her partner couldn’t believe it.

          “It was necessary in order to quiet any media issues.  Also the Mattaponi would want in on the autopsy, x-rays, and anything else we need to do.  Once we can confirm without a doubt then and only then will the Jeffersonian’s public relations department handle the dispersion of information,” she said.

          “Did I ever tell you how brilliant you are?  I’m calling the Attorney General to get all the information on that site purchase,” Booth quickly picked up his cell phone from his pocket and dialed.  While he was on the phone, Sheriff Koch walked into autopsy.  He waited patiently until the agent was off the phone before divulging what he knew.

          “Previous to the Laundromat, that particular piece of property was owned by Nelson Seaford; grandfather to Raymond.  It was then passed to his son who eventually passed it to Raymond.  Originally the sale of that plot of land was contested by the Mattaponi but no one could find anything that would have specifically led to handing the property over to them.  The developer, long since out of business, sold it to Nelson thinking it was safe to do so.  Now no evidence has turned up that Nelson knew about what you discovered.  The hardware store that Nelson built there was famous for being the best spot in town to get a job.  Nelson would hire anyone and help anyone.  Seems his kindheartedness wasn’t passed on to his grandson, though.  According to the murder file on Burt Seaford, there was suspicion that his own son had him off’ed.  Nothing was ever proven however.  Especially when a man who worked for Burt confessed on his deathbed back in nineteen eighty.  As soon as the hardware store was cleared from being a crime scene, Raymond had it gutted and he revamped it into a bunch of little stores that never stayed long.  By then he’d already had his separate empire started and no one thought anything of the gutting other than to mention in the big front page article how sad it was to see Nelson’s Hardware close,” Koch explained.

          “So Raymond probably knows that the land once belonged to the Mattaponi.  Explains the constant repaving the parking lot.  Figured he could bury the evidence under the asphalt,” Booth nodded.

          “Can we arrest him if he didn’t originally purchase the property?”  Koch hoped there was some federal statute that could help.

          “No.  If we could prove that Nelson knew and that he passed the knowledge onto his grandson, maybe.  As it stands, Caroline wouldn’t prosecute this case but that doesn’t mean civil court wouldn’t.  A nice lawsuit mounted by the Mattaponi could win the land back.  They could claim it was unlawfully sold to Nelson before a thorough investigation of the site was done,” the FBI agent told him.

          “Should I alert the Tribal Council?”  The Sheriff asked.

          “Not yet.  Wait until Bones and her team have confirmed what we have found and then we’ll talk to them,” Booth said.


	16. Chapter 16

**Conference Room at FBI Headquarters, Wednesday at 9:00 am**

          “We have called this meeting because during the excavation of the existing Laundromat two bodies were unearthed,” Brennan announced to the group that now sat around the long table.

          “Bodies?”  Billy Trout raised an eyebrow.

          “We positively identified one of the bodies as Lee Chang.  He went missing not long after Duc Lin.  Both men were killed with the same weapon that was owned by Corporal Peter Kistler’s father.  We have proven without a reasonable doubt that the Corporal did in fact pull the trigger but we believe he was used.  That being said the person or persons that used his reduced mental state to get what they want will be charged with murder,” she continued.

          “And I’m here why?”  Seaford spoke up.

          “You’re here because you happened to own said property where all three bodies were found and because Corporal Kistler was working for you when the two murders occurred,” Booth filled him in.

          “I didn’t kill anyone.  Why am I here?”  Benjamin Hutte asked.

          “See we don’t exactly think that’s true,” Booth said.

          “What proof do you have?”  Ben demanded to know.

          “Proof would be the fact that you’ve already admitted to helping to cover up the murder of Duc Lin.  Proof would be the fact that you ran after the Tribal Council passed judgment on your crime forcing you to work as a maintenance man at the Council building and to not be allowed to vote on Tribal issues for the next ten years.  Proof would be the fact that your own son refuses to corroborate your story,” the G-man gave him a look.

          “Now we come to the fun part.  I helped Dr. Brennan and Simon examine the skeleton and artifacts found at the site.  I am willing to make the leap that the third body found is in fact a Mattaponi warrior,” Doctor Cengel from the archeology department dropped the bomb and the room went silent.  Sweets watched with interest as the looks on people’s faces gave away what they were feeling.

          “So Mr. Seaford you don’t seem too surprised about the discovery,” the young psychologist commented.

          “How do I know it isn’t another scam of trying to take my grandfather’s land?”  Raymond asked.         

          “Well I’d say since the property was contested back when your grandfather bought it, I’d say it wasn’t a scam.  In fact the Attorney General has some pretty interesting information on the whole transaction,” Booth smirked.

          “What do you mean?”  Seaford wanted to know.

          “See they dug up the original deed with the help of the bank.  Seems you currently are using more property than what you actually own.  You didn’t know you’re grandfather had a deal with the Mattaponi did you?”  The G-man asked.

          “What are you talking about?  He never would have made such a deal,” the developer said.

          “Oh but he did.  Along with the deed was a piece of paper signed by Nelson, Chief Elk, and then notarized by the notary public.  I’ll read some of it to you,” Booth said.

          “In the event that Mattaponi artifacts are found on my property, I hereby do swear to turn them over to the proper authorities and allow the Mattaponi to investigate.  Once an investigation has been completed I will agree to either hand my loans over to the Mattaponi or continue to make payments to the bank.”

          “In other words, if it was ours he’d pay us rent,” Billy spoke up.

          “Exactly.  See Nelson believed in being fair and apparently Chief Elk took him at his word.  Now the loans have long been paid off but I do believe a full investigation by the Jeffersonian’s archeological team on behalf of the Tribal Council is in order.  Once they conclude their digging, I believe a civil trial will be next,” Booth smiled.

          “Sweets can you explain Corporal Kistler’s disorder?”  Brennan spoke up.

          “Thank you Dr. Brennan,” Sweets smiled and then gave the layman’s understanding of PTSD.

          “That being said, manipulation of this man wouldn’t be that difficult especially in his state at the time.  Still he worked as a demolition’s expert, which only fractured his psyche more.  Both Ben and Mr. Seaford have motive in this case and both of you have the opportunity.  Why did Duc Lin and Lee Chang have to die?”  The young psychologist asked.

          “I want a lawyer,” both Ben Hutte and Raymond Seaford said at the same time.

          “Guilty as charged,” Sheriff Koch said under his breath.


	17. Chapter 17

**Booth’s Office, FBI Headquarters, Wednesday at 5:00 pm**

                The FBI agent sat at his desk, tapping the pen he held in his hand on the half empty report.  Technically they had solved the case but the fact that both Ben Hutte and Raymond Seaford had clammed up, didn’t really give anyone closure.  Caroline had told him given the mental and physical condition of Corporal Kistler he wouldn’t be able to stand trial anyway and unless he could give her something concrete both Seaford and Hutte would walk.

          “Not coming up with anything?”  Cam asked from his office doorway.

          “Nothing yet.  Caroline would charge Ben Hutte and Raymond Seaford with being an accomplice to murder except we can’t prove who had whom murdered,” he heaved a sigh.

          “The fingerprint in the lacquer doesn’t prove that Ben Hutte had Kistler kill Duc Lin?”  She wanted to know.

          “The defense attorney would have a field day with that.  The only evidence we have against that cockamamie story about having his son call him.  The son won’t back up the story and says he has no idea what his old man is talking about.  It’s hinky but nothing comes up against the son to say otherwise,” Booth shook his head.

          “Well I see no reason to bring the son into it at all unless the son is lying.  Did you squeeze him for more information?”  Cam asked.

          “I’m having him brought in tomorrow morning.  We’re going to toss both he and his father in the same room and have them duke it out.  Maybe we’ll get lucky with that one but that still doesn’t give us jack-diddly on Seaford.  There is no way to prove that he knew the land was Mattaponi and despite the fact we think he killed his dad for the business we have no way to prove why he’d want a perfectly good paying tenant removed.  To make matters worse he played his cards right by keeping up the property in case Lee Chang came back,” he said.

          “Yes well the original reason I came down here is because tomorrow the Jeffersonian will announce their findings to the world and then take over the dig site at the Laundromat.  Doctor Cengel has promised to send any more bodies that are found to Doctor Brennan.  She might be busy for awhile if there happens to be a graveyard under there,” the coroner explained.

          “Can’t get Simon to handle it?  What if another case comes up?”  Booth asked.

          “We’ll deal with that when we get there.  Now go home and hopefully tomorrow will be better,” she smiled and then left him alone in his office.  He looked at the clock and saw that it was approaching five-thirty.  He put his pen down and stood from his chair.  Grabbing his suit coat, he closed up his office and headed for the SUV.

          “Bones, are you here by yourself again?”  He asked twenty minutes later upon arriving at the lab.

          “Hodgins took Angela out for dinner.  Cam said she was going home after she stopped to see you and Simon, well I’m not really sure what happened to Simon,” she looked around from her position on the platform realizing her intern was missing.

          “Why don’t we get some dinner?”  He asked.

          “Food sounds good about now.  I have to stop at my place first to take Champ for a walk.  Would you mind?”  She asked as she removed her latex gloves and backed away from the Mattaponi warrior on her steel examining table.

          “Of course not.  As long as we can grab something out of your fridge for a snack,” Booth smiled.

          “I think there is still some leftover macaroni and cheese but then again I can’t remember how long it’s been in there,” Brennan said thoughtfully.

          “Why don’t we find out?”  Her partner asked.


	18. Chapter 18

**FBI Interrogation Room 1, Thursday at 9:00 am**

          “Good Morning Ben, Mr. Silvernail” Booth smiled as he entered the interrogation room.  The Mattaponi man and his Tribal Lawyer, Bernard Silvernail, sat at the table waiting for the agent.

          “Agent Booth you have little to no evidence to charge my client with anything in Federal Court.  So why are we here?”  The lawyer spoke up.

          “You’re here because your client’s alibi was shredded by his son.  You admitted to using your own hand made furniture to bury Duc Lin in.  Now the tampering charge has long run out but Raymond Seaford wants to press trespassing charges along with what the Attorney General thinks is a good case for unlawful disposal of a body.  Now I can make those charges stick.  You’ll have to pay a fine with some possible jail time on the body disposal, which would give me time to build a stronger case against you for being an accomplice to the murder of Duc Lin.  Now we can go down that road or you can be straight with me,” Booth explained.

          “I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that to intimidate my client,” Silvernail said.

          “Ok then,” Booth turned to the glass one-way window in the room and nodded.  Soon the door to the interrogation room opened and in walked Ben Junior who was escorted by an FBI agent.

          “So you’re trying to pin this on me,” was what the son said as he sat down next to Agent Booth.

          “Why would I do that?”  Ben Senior asked.

          “I don’t know Dad.  You’ve never been the father type.  I was always just a burden to you since Mom died,” Junior told him.

          “All right boys.  Now I want some cooperation.  You both agree that Ben Junior and Corporal Kistler worked together at Seaford Construction,” Booth said.

          “Yes,” both men answered.

          “Ok.  Now Ben you were good friends with Peter?”  The G-man asked as he turned to the younger man.

          “Yes I was.  He was always willing to help and do anything that somebody needed.  Mr. Seaford took a shine to him,” Ben nodded.

          “What kind of shine to him?”  Booth wanted to know.

          “Well he always found extra things that Peter could do without making him feel like he was useless.  With only one good hand, things were tough for Peter.  He once told me that he was helping Mr. Seaford with some legal issues but I wasn’t sure what he meant.  Especially since Peter was never that intelligent.  I mean he wasn’t stupid by any means but some things just went right over his head.  Ask him to be a Marine and he could do it.  Ask him how to demolish a building; he could do it.  Just don’t ask him to read the Sunday newspaper,” Junior explained.

          “So if someone told him that Duc Lin and Lee Chang were Viet Cong, he would have no trouble killing them,” the special agent said.

          “I suppose so.  I never got a call from him about him killing anyone though,” Booth’s trap didn’t work and he continued on with his line of questioning.

          “What do you think Sweets?”  Brennan asked from the other side of the one-way glass.

          “Well it’s obvious that something happened between son and father to cause so much animosity but it seems that Ben Junior had nothing to do with the murder of Duc Lin.  Which only questions why Ben brought him up in the first place,” Sweets said.  He had a look of concentration on his face though as if there was something else on his mind but the shouting from inside the interrogation room distracted them both.

          “I didn’t know that Peter killed Mr. Lin!”  Ben Junior blew his stack.

          “Ok, see now you’re lying because what I didn’t tell either one of you is that thanks to the phone company we have a pay phone call to your father’s house.  They’ve been digging for a long time to find those records and wouldn’t you know, they did,” Booth said.

          “Phone records?  When did he look up phone records?  Would the phone company even keep them that long?”  Brennan asked.

          “No, they wouldn’t.  Besides how many pay phones can there be left?”  Sweets was then surprised by a piece of paper that looked like phone records that Booth handed to Silvernail.

          “All this proves is that someone called my father.  It doesn’t prove it was me,” Ben Junior told them. 

          “You weren’t at home though either.  So it doesn’t exactly rule you out.  Besides out of all the phone calls only this phone call was made from a pay phone and in front of the old Hardware store.  Now tell me what happened or you’re both getting charged,” Booth put his food down hoping that someone would crack.  Junior did the honors and the G-man was rewarded.

          “All right.  I did call Dad.  I didn’t know what else to do,” the younger Ben admitted.

          “Take it from the top.  Why did Mr. Lin have to die?”  Booth pressed.

          “I don’t know why he had to die.  I was down the street at the pizza place picking up dinner when someone commented on the fact that the car backfire was awfully loud.  I didn’t think anything of it except as I drove past the empty building there was someone standing over someone else.  I pulled over and found Peter standing over this Asian guy.  The guy was dead.  I called Dad.  I couldn’t, I **_can’t_** go to prison.  I was about to propose to my girlfriend and I have a family now,” Junior explained.

          “So how did Corporal Kistler get to the crime scene without being seen?  I mean he was carrying a shotgun,” Sweets asked into the mic.

          “Do you know how he got there?”  The G-man asked.

          “Peter couldn’t drive and I doubt he took the bus,” Ben said.

          “We’ll have to check out your story.  If it checks out, you’ll need to testify to what happened,” Booth told him.

          “As long as I don’t have to go to prison,” the younger Ben wanted to be clear.

          “I’ll see what I can do,” Booth nodded.


	19. Chapter 19

**The Royal Diner, Thursday at 11:45 am**

          Booth walked into the diner and saw Brennan sitting in their usual booth.  He heaved a sigh and made his way over to her.  She saw the look on his face and immediately knew his meeting with Caroline didn’t go well.

          “What happened?”  She asked as he sat down.

          “Caroline says the only way she isn’t charging the Huttes with anything is if we can actually prove their story.  I said we could use them as witnesses against Seaford and she could grant them immunity but she refused.  Said that we were basing the case against Seaford using only a story.  Especially since both of them have been caught lying.  I see her point but I’m not happy about it,” Booth shook his head as he picked up the menu.  He knew it by heart now so why he bothered to pick it up he didn’t know.

          “They have apple pie today,” his partner told him.

          “Yum,” he smiled.  They fell into a comfortable silence and the waitress came by soon.  They placed their order and then got down to business.

          “So how do you think we can catch them?  I mean the seventies were technologically challenged,” Brennan wondered.

          “That’s the problem.  No cell phones, traffic cams, or car GPS.  We’d have to find a witness and the only one we know of, Duc Lin, is dead,” Booth made a face and grabbed his drink.  While he slurped from his straw, Brennan stared out the window, seemingly off in space.

          “What about any ATM’s?”  She asked.

          “No dice.  They weren’t widely used until closer to the mid-seventies,” he told her.

          “Well then you have nothing to go to the bank with,” Brennan joked.

          “Cute,” he gave a slight chuckle as the waitress stopped by.

          “The case is officially dead then isn’t it?”  She sighed.

          “Unless one of the Squint Squad can come up with something, then yes,” Booth returned a sigh and looked at his burger, which the waitress set down in front of him only moments before.

          “How’d you get those phone records?”  The forensic anthropologist suddenly had a thought.

          “They were from the initial West Point case file.  Sheriff Koch found them and passed them along, he said that somehow due to a misfiling, they had ended up inside Lee Chang’s disappearance case box.  They got overlooked because the records were pulled to be re-filed after someone noticed they had the wrong dates on them,” he said.

          “Any suspicions that Seaford was involved with the disappearance?”  Brennan asked.

          “At the time, they weren’t suspicious but they followed protocol by interviewing Seaford.  It was his property after all,” her partner gave a slight smile before grabbing a fry and biting it.

          “What was his alibi?”  She wanted to know.

          “I’d have to check the files back at my office.  What are you thinking?”  He asked.

          “That we’d better get the pie to go,” she said.

**The Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, Thursday at 1:00 pm**

          “So what do you think happened?”  Cam asked as they all had piled into Brennan’s office.  The coroner had taken a seat on the couch next to Angela.

          “According to his alibi, Seaford said that he had promised to meet Duc Lin at the building around eight o’clock because he had to get some things done at the office.  He claimed to have given Duc a key so he could look around inside.  We know that Duc died outside the shop and we know that it was after dark so our shooter was easily hidden from prying eyes.  What if Corporal Kistler wasn’t driven to the crime scene?  What if he was lying in wait?”  Brennan asked.

          “But why would he be lying in wait?  What purpose does killing Duc Lin serve?”  Angela was confused.

          “The scent of bleach would not have been overly noticeable because Seaford had the place cleaned before allowing Duc to see it,” her friend explained.

          “So you think that Duc was in fact killed inside the building and the killer covered his tracks by cleaning it up?  How would that be possible when Ben Hutte Jr. said he saw Kistler standing over the body?”  Cam asked.

          “Ben didn’t look the entire scene over before helping his friend out.  The police weren’t called to the scene until the next morning,” Booth said.

          “So anywhere wiped with bleach would have had time to dry.  No one looked inside the building because the evidence had been washed away.  Someone cleaned the parking lot and the store before the cops got there,” Hodgins nodded.

          “Exactly.  Luminol would not have been useful on the asphalt even if they suspected that Duc was dead.  At the time, he was only missing and the forensics would have taken a back seat when nothing was blatantly obvious at the crime scene.  Not only that, the Laundromat may not have been considered a crime scene especially since the last place anyone saw him was leaving his home and heading for the bus station,” Cam pointed out.

          “So Seaford orders Kistler to kill Duc Lin because of some sort of dispute and then cleans up after him.  His alibi goes unquestioned because he is a local businessman and not thought of as a suspect,” Hodgins said.

          “It would seem that way.  When asked why he didn’t call the Lin’s home after Duc didn’t show up, he responded by saying he figured that Duc had changed his mind and he would call him in the morning, especially since he got there late.  But Bones and I found the front door of the Laundromat unlocked when we got there which bothered me at the time,” Booth filled in.

          “So what happened to the key that Duc used to open the shop?”  Angela asked.

          “That is a very good question,” Brennan nodded.


	20. Chapter 20

**FBI Interrogation Room 1, Thursday at 4:00 pm**

          “You really think you’re going to be able to catch Seaford in a lie?  He has been incredibly careful up to this point,” Sweets said as he, Booth, and Brennan stood in the viewing room looking through the one-way glass at Raymond Seaford and his attorney.

          “The key is the link.  I called Sheriff Koch and he went to investigate Peter Kistler’s belongings.  Considering we know him to be the murderer, getting a search warrant wasn’t that difficult and the Judge Advocate General defense attorney assigned to protect his rights had no objections.  What they found is what I’m waiting on,” Booth explained.

          “You think that if we prove that Kistler had keys to a building he never should have had access to, it’ll prove that he had to have gotten the keys from Seaford.  What about Duc Lin’s set?”  Sweets asked.

          “That’s what got us here.  There should have only been two sets of keys; Seaford’s and the copy he had made for prospective clients.  According to Seaford’s receptionist, they don’t have a set.  She assumed that the police had both sets but they don’t,” Booth told him.

          “So there are two sets missing.  What set did Lee Chang use?”  Sweets wondered.

          “Well that’s just it.  A set of keys was logged in as evidence when Lee Chang disappeared.  His car was still in the driveway but the Laundromat doors where unlocked.  The keys were found at Lee Chang’s residence.  So he didn’t leave the house using his car and he didn’t take the Laundromat keys with him.  Now no self-respecting businessman doesn’t lock up when he goes home no matter what neighborhood it’s in.  I inquired at the police station if the keys had ever been removed from evidence.  They had not been signed out and according to a note that was stuck to them, the Sheriff had refused Seaford access to them because he didn’t want the chain of evidence ruined.  Seaford petitioned to have the set back and make a copy of the originals because supposedly he’d lost his and wanted to lock up the Laundromat,” the G-man filled in.

          “But the Laundromat wasn’t locked when you got there,” the psychologist pointed out.

          “Exactly,” Booth nodded.

          “I received a call from the Jeffersonian team and they uncovered a secret passageway that led to an area that could have concealed Kistler.  They are going through it with a fine toothbrush forensically.  So we figure that when Duc Lin entered the Laundromat, Kistler surprised him and killed him,” Brennan spoke up.

          “Its comb Bones.  Anyway it’s possible that Lee Chang found the secret passageway and possibly something inside it that proves that Duc Lin is dead.  He meets with Seaford to tell him what he’s found and then he ends up dead too,” Booth continues.  Just then his phone rang and he quickly pulled it from his pocket and answered.  After a short conversation, the G-man hung up.

          “All right Bones.  Why don’t we go interrogate our suspect?”  Her partner smirked and the two immediately left the viewing room.

          “So what is the meaning of this Agent Booth?  You’ve been keeping us waiting for almost thirty minutes,” Seaford’s defense attorney, Isabel Mahan wanted to know.

          “The meaning of this meeting is that I now have enough evidence to go to trial but I thought we’d see about hearing your client’s side of the story first,” Booth said nonchalantly.

          “Last I heard all you had was rampant speculation,” Mahan raised her left eyebrow.

          “Well not anymore.  Seems Corporal Kistler has a key that does not belong to him.  In fact it belongs to your client.  Want to guess what door that key opens?”  The FBI agent asked.

          “What are you getting at other than the fact that the Corporal was a thief as well?”  The attorney took everything in stride.

          “Well now the Corporal was a lot of things but a thief, not exactly.  You see he sealed the key in a plastic zipper bag.  We’re having it processed for prints, DNA, and anything else we can think of.  This is the last opportunity for your client to come clean before getting sent to be lethally injected,” Booth’s calm manner was off-putting to Seaford and Brennan could see him squirm.

          “So Caroline decided to go for the death penalty?  Really?”  Isabel wasn’t buying it.

          “The Attorney General’s office didn’t seem opposed to it.  Especially since they could then get all your client’s records and turn Mattaponi land back over to the rightful owners,” the G-man replied and then went into what the Jeffersonian team had found at the Laundromat and their theory of the crimes.  Seaford looked at his attorney and she nodded.

          “Give us a minute?”  She asked.

          “No problem,” Booth nodded and he and Brennan left the room.


	21. Chapter 21

**Royal Diner, Thursday at 6:00 pm**

Sweets plopped himself into the first available seat at the table. Cam looked at him from her seat across the table and raised an eyebrow.

"Rough day?" She asked.

"Another successful case come to a close," he smiled slightly but the coroner could tell he wasn't telling her everything. She was about to ask him what was going on when Hodgins and Angela showed up.

"You look cozy," Angela teased Sweets.

"I'm at one of those places where I'm not sure what just happened and what is about to happen," he explained.

"That's real specific. Why don't you tell us what happened in the interrogation?" Hodgins asked.

"The Sheriff found the key to the Laundromat in Corporal Kistler's belongings at the hospital and Dr. Brennan received a call saying that there was a secret passageway in the building that the archeologists found. Agent Booth presented the evidence and did some threatening and Seaford just confessed," Sweets explained.

"He just confessed?" Cam's eyebrow went up again.

"I know right? I mean the whole time this guy has been stringing us along and he suddenly confesses," the young psychologist shrugged.

"There's nobody left to put the blame on. Besides if Booth pulled the death penalty card, I'd probably confess too," Hodgins said.

"Yes but my profile of Seaford in no way indicated he was that kind of man. Despite all the mystery and intrigue surrounding the death of his father and then two disappearances of a perspective client and an actual client, Seaford remained steady as a rock. Never once giving anything up or swaying from his original statements. So why then would he suddenly just confess?" Sweets wanted to know.

"Well he is elderly. If he has any hope of not dying in prison he probably thought it better to confess," Angela suggested.

"I suppose. Despite not having iron clad evidence, a trial still might not go in his favor and then the jury could still choose death as a sentence," Cam nodded.

"Well where are Bren and Booth anyway? Perhaps they could shed some light on the subject," the forensic artist said.

"They'll be here shortly, I would imagine. Booth just had to work out a deal for the Huttes," Sweets told them.

"Well then lets order. I'm starving," Hodgins said as he scooped up a menu and started to peruse the choices.

About twenty minutes later, the partners walked into the diner and both grabbed chairs from an unoccupied table. It was a tight fit at the table but they made it work.

"There you guys are," Angela smiled.

"Caroline worked it all out. The murders of Duc Lin and Lee Chang will be served concurrent, fifteen to life," Booth told them.

"Well that was a pretty sweet deal," Cam remarked.

"Not exactly. All his commercial properties have been forfeited to the state as part of the arrangement, which means they can be thoroughly investigated and returned to their rightful owners," the G-man explained.

"Oh so when he gets out, he'll have nothing to his name?" Sweets asked.

"Just the house he lives in now. The business is being taken over by his lead construction man," Booth said.

"I see. And what about the Mattaponi?" Hodgins wanted to know.

"They'll be taking him to civil court. I imagine, they'll win too," Brennan smiled.

"Well done. Now Sweets can't believe this guy just coughed up the info. What happened in the interrogation room?" Cam inquired.

"I have to admit, I didn't expect him to cough up anything either. Although it might be better explained when we get the evidence off the key back. I'd be willing to bet that there's DNA on there he knew he couldn't beat," Booth pulled out his phone and showed them the reason why Corporal Kistler kept the key in a plastic bag.

"Is that what I think it is?" Sweets asked.

"Blood and enough for a sample thanks to the Corporal's quick thinking," Brennan said.

"So what exactly did Seaford say about the murders?" Hodgins wanted to know.

"He was incredibly blunt and just kind of spit it out. Duc Lin wanted to meet him at the Laundromat because he no longer wanted the property. Turns out he found some Mattaponi artifacts and was going to turn him in. So Seaford was going to pay him off, only problem was Duc refused. In order to keep him quiet he then turned Corporal Kistler on him. Duc was just supposed to meet Seaford at the Laundromat and turn over the keys. Instead Kistler killed him and the only part of the plan that went south was the fact that his friend Ben Hutte stumbled on him. Seaford cleaned up but obviously not well enough because one day while cleaning up, Lee Chang stumbled on the hidden passageway. He found blood. He calls up Seaford and tells him. Seaford promised to meet Lee Chang at his house when they got there, Kistler conked him on the head and they drove to the Laundromat. Kistler killed Chang and then he ended up buried on the property. Chang goes "missing" and everyone involved acts like they don't know anything. It would have worked perfectly except that Kistler hung onto the key," Booth explained.

"So the key is how they opened the doors to the Laundromat without having Lee Chang's keys. It was also the key that Duc Lin was going to hand over," Cam said.

"Seems that way. I'm sure the lab will be able to clarify it all up once the results come back," the G-man nodded.

"It doesn't bother you that Seaford so readily confessed?" Sweets asked.

"It does. I mean he had been holding out for all these years. To just throw it away…" Booth paused.

"What?" Brennan looked at him.

"What if there is another body?" Her partner wondered.

"What other body?" Angela asked.

"Well it isn't actually a body. Burt Seaford was found but his death was under suspicious circumstances," Booth said.

"You think there might be evidence of what he did to his father in one of the properties he owns?" Brennan inquired.

"I think you and I have to make another trip out to West Point," he nodded.


	22. Chapter 22

**The Drive to West Point, Virginia, Friday at 7:00 am**

          “What makes Seaford think that confessing will stop the Jeffersonian from discovering any evidence of his father’s murder?”  Brennan asked as Booth pulled the SUV away from her apartment complex.

          “Once the site has been declared an archaeological dig, the evidence won’t hold up in court.  Seaford’s attorney will claim the archeologists contaminated it when digging or destroyed parts of the crime scene.  Never mind the court battle that would ensue once the land gets turned over to the Mattaponi.  Worse still, if they don’t find anything of archeological significance the property will be turned over to the state who can sell it to the highest bidder.  Once that occurs, any construction that takes place will destroy anything left over,” Booth explained.

          “Well I told the Jeffersonian archeological team to stop at the Laundromat.  The new teams that were heading out to the other properties have been delayed.  Does Sheriff Koch know we’re coming?”  His partner inquired.

          “I called his office last night and left a message for him.  He gets in around eight so that’ll give him some time before we arrive,” Booth nodded.

          “So we’ll go back over the murder of Burt Seaford and with any luck we’ll be able to pin point something that will solve the case.  Otherwise I’m sure the Mattaponi will not be happy with us keeping possible properties that could be theirs all tangled up in the legal system,” Brennan said.

          “Good point Bones.  The only good thing about the situation is that we won’t have to deal with getting search warrants since the lands were seized as part of the deal Seaford made,” her partner told her.

          “Well that will expedite things.  What about the people who rent from Seaford?  Will they be forced to leave the property?”  She wondered.

          “Caroline said something about notifying everyone who rents from Seaford and trying to come to some sort of arrangement.  With the ground penetrating radar, finding artifacts should be relatively easy and hopefully they can move through the process swiftly.  Although what happens when they find Mattaponi items on the property, I’m not really sure.  I guess that would be up to the Mattaponi and the current residents,” Booth shrugged as he changed lanes as people merged onto the highway into the curb lane.  Brennan only nodded.  She hoped this all worked out well but in the back of her mind she knew that not everything always worked out the way people hoped.  The rest of the trip was spent mostly listening to the radio and some chitchat. 

          Upon pulling into town, Booth made a beeline for the police precinct.  He parked the vehicle and the pair headed into the building.

          “We’re here to see Sheriff Koch,” Booth flashed his badge and one of his famous smiles to the female police officer at the front desk.

          “He’s expecting you.  I trust you know your way to his office,” the officer smiled back at him.  There was this look in the officer’s eyes that made it apparent to Brennan that she was checking out her partner and it made her a little angry.  Booth knew the look on her face and gently placed a hand on the small of her back as he led her to the Sheriff’s office.

          “Come on Bones.  There’s work to be done,” he reminded her.  More and more he was beginning to notice she didn’t like it when other ladies gave him attention.  Perhaps it was because they didn’t really spend any private time together during their cases or perhaps it was because they hadn’t made any formal announcement about their relationship.  In any event, they’d talk later about it, there was a murderer to catch.

          “Good Morning Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan.  So you want to look at Burt Seaford’s murder?”  Sheriff Koch offered them seats inside his office before closing the door.

          “Yes we do.  We believe that Raymond Seaford killed his old man and is trying to cut a deal with the States Attorney before any evidence is found,” Booth explained.

          “Well I don’t have to tell you that we have a deathbed confession from the guy who claimed to have killed Burt Seaford.  Throwing out the confession is going to piss off a lot of people,” Koch reminded them.

          “The FBI doesn’t care about pissing people off.  It’s about getting to the truth,” Booth said.

          “You’ll get no argument from me.  The whole thing was fishy from the beginning.  I brought the case up from storage,” the Sheriff pulled the box out from under his desk and plopped it in front of them.

          “You need some place to not be disturbed and the best bet might be to go and see Dr. Jones.  He probably could give you a better understanding of the original coroner’s report anyway,” Koch continued.

          “Thanks Sheriff.  Always a pleasure,” Booth stood and Brennan did the same.  They shook hands with the local lawman before leaving his office and heading over to the coroner’s office.


	23. Chapter 23

**West Point Coroner’s Office, Friday at 10:30 am**

          The partners headed into the Coroner’s Office and were met by his assistant who was on his way out the door.  He told them where to find Dr. Jones and then went on his way.  They entered autopsy and found the coroner elbow deep in someone’s chest.

          “That’s disgusting,” Booth commented.

          “Sorry.  Had to go the long way to find what I was looking for,” Bartholomew pulled his right hand out of the chest cavity and produced a fragment of something.

          “What have you got?”  He nonchalantly continued to address the pair as he put the evidence in a Petri dish.

          “We need some help going over an old coroner’s report.  Sheriff Koch thought you could help,” Brennan explained.

          “Ah then you’ve come to the right place.  Why don’t you go sit in my office whilst I finish up here with Mr. Edgerton?”  Jones smiled and the partners thanked him before finding the doctor’s office. 

          “A little clean in here huh?”  Booth asked, noting that everything on the coroner’s desk was in neat stacks and there seemed to be no clutter.

          “I imagine this makes it easier for him to find things,” Brennan shrugged.  She liked a clean workspace as much as the next person.  The two took the empty seats in front of the desk and opened the box holding the case file.

          “Ok here is the coroner’s file and here is the original detective’s report and notes.  A few evidence bags and that’s it,” Booth said, a little concerned with how small everything was after digging through the box.

          “How was the victim killed?”  The forensic anthropologist wanted to know.

          “I’m guessing by this bullet, somebody shot him,” her partner handed her the evidence bag with a small caliber mangled bullet.

          “A twenty-two?”  Brennan asked for his opinion.

          “Looks like.  Here is the juicy stuff.  You take the coroner’s report and I’ll have a look see at the detective’s notes and report,” he said before dishing out the paperwork.  The two got to reading, hoping for anything that would give them a clue as to what Raymond may have in his possession.

          “Find anything good?”  Dr. Jones asked upon entering his office twenty minutes later.

          “I have a question about the coroner’s findings,” Brennan said as she handed over the report and pointed to what she was talking about.

          “I could understand why you would have questions.  It seems that the doctor who did this autopsy checked the suicide box.  Kind of hard to commit suicide when the bullet entered the temple at an upward angle,” Bartholomew shook his head.

          “Is this the original report?  Would you have a copy in your files?”  Brennan wanted to know.

          “Honestly, probably not.  The case is over thirty years old.  Whatever isn’t in the case file box is long gone.  We upgraded to a computer system some years back to manage reports and make them easier to print or e-mail but existing cases were never involved except into the electronic filing system.  That only tells you the status of the case, the investigating detective, and the location of the file,” Dr. Jones explained.

          “Is this guy still alive?”  Booth asked.

          “Not to my knowledge.  He was old when he was put on the case.  To be honest, Dr. Edward Smith is kind of a legend around here.  Retired at age eighty back in nineteen ninety.  He’d be one hundred by now,” the coroner said.

          “Do you think he was old enough to have made a mistake when filling out the paperwork?”  The G-man wanted to know.

          “It’s possible.  I never met the man.  I replaced the man who came after him.  He should still be around.  Might be able to give you some insight.  I’ll get his address from the book we keep.  Anything else I can help you with?”  Bartholomew asked.

          “Yes.  The original detective, do you know anything about him?”  The FBI agent wondered.

          “No, that would be Sheriff Koch’s department.  I’ll give him a jingle once I give you what you need,” the coroner smiled and headed off to find the book of which he’d spoken.

          “You think they’ll have information we need?  The Sheriff did say people would be unhappy about this,” Brennan looked to her partner.

          “He’s going to be upset himself when I tell him that the gun is missing out of this box.  Hard to committed suicide and ditch the gun,” Booth told her.


	24. Chapter 24

**Sheriff Koch’s Office, Friday at 12:00 pm**

          “So Dr. Jones says we have a problem.  Not a ‘bring the entire department down’ kind of problem, I hope,” the Sheriff said once he’d closed the door to his office and took his seat behind the desk.

          “Well perhaps not that bad but still not good,” Booth explained as he took a seat in front of the Sheriff’s desk.

          “Oh I love those kinds of problems.  Well lay it on me,” Koch shook his head.

          “According to the original coroner’s report, Burt Seaford committed suicide, which both Dr. Jones and I found to be erroneous.  However, take a look at this,” Brennan started by handing the coroner’s report over the desk from her seat next to Booth.

          “You’ll have to pardon my stupidity but what am I looking for?”  He asked.

          “See that blob on the paper, down near the signature?”  The forensic anthropologist pointed out.

          “Yes, I do.  That shouldn’t be there.  That and I’ve seen enough of these reports to know that Dr. Smith always used blue ink,” the Sheriff said.

          “This is a photocopy,” Brennan told him flatly.

          “Let me guess, the original report is missing,” Koch shook his head.

          “Yes, it is.  I want to send this back to the Jeffersonian to have Angela run some tests but I’m confident enough to say that someone thought no one would notice and put the photocopy in the case file.  The original would tell us if the doctor’s report was falsified,” Brennan said.

          “But why falsify the records if we have a confession?  What purpose does that serve?”  The Sheriff wanted to know.

          “Well that’s what we have to find out but we have another problem,” Booth interjected.

          “I’m not going to like this am I?”  Johnny asked.

          “Probably not.  The gun is missing from the evidence box,” the G-man said.

          “Shit.  What the hell was going on in this department?”  Koch wanted to know.

          “Well if you have the original detective’s current address, we’d like to ask a few questions.  I’ve read his notes and he didn’t seem to think it was a suicide but it didn’t seem like he had enough evidence to go anywhere else with the case.  It wouldn’t surprise me if the evidence was stolen and doctored before the department got that deathbed confession.  I can’t ask Leonard Setter.  He’s long been buried but why confess to a murder that someone had tried to pawn off as a suicide?  The only reason you do that is because you feel guilty.  I need Leonard Setter’s criminal record to find out what kind of man he was and my office will get that for me but I could really use the address for Detective Sheldon Rumpl,” Booth told him.

          “If you can prove Burt Seaford was murdered like Duc Lin and Lee Chang then you think the States Attorney would renege on the deal you put in place?”  Koch wondered.

          “If I know Caroline, she’ll make it her personal mission to fry this guy,” the FBI agent said.

          “Well then let me pull up that address you need.  Let’s hope that Detective Rumpl still is altogether with it,” the Sheriff went to his computer and pulled up the information the partner’s were looking for relatively quickly.

          “Thanks for this Sheriff.  Do you mind if we take the case file with us?”  Booth wondered.

          “It’ll be safer with you anyway,” Koch smirked before watching the two exit his office.  The partners waited until they were in the SUV before bringing up the case again.

          “Do you think that this detective was dirty?”  Brennan asked.

          “No, I don’t.  He made meticulous notes and it’s quite obvious from those notes that he wasn’t happy with how the case was going.  If we can talk to him maybe he will point us in the direction we need,” Booth told her before pulling the SUV out onto the street.


	25. Chapter 25

**Shady Oaks Retirement Community, Friday at 1:30 pm**

          “This is quite the establishment,” Booth commented as the partners exited the SUV and headed for the front door.  The four-story building was made with tan bricks with red accents at the windows.  The lawns were well manicured and the parking lot had been freshly resealed. 

          “Very nice.  I wonder how much it costs?”  Brennan asked.

          “Good question.  Guess it depends on what section of the building you’re in,” Booth commented, knowing where she was going with her question.  How did a retired police detective afford such a place?

          The entered the building and were immediately greeted by a receptionist, attempting to stop someone from getting out the front door.

          “Can I help you?”  She asked blocking the elderly man in a wheelchair from continuing his escape.

          “Yes but it seems you have your hands full,” Booth said as Brennan admired what appeared to be a newly renovated atrium.

          “Another day at Shady Oaks, what can I say?”  She smirked and quickly locked the brakes on the wheelchair before heading through a door that led to her desk.

          “We’re looking for a Sheldon Rumpl,” Brennan told her.

          “Mr. Rumpl?  Hmmm… the name is familiar…” the receptionist grabbed her Rolodex and flipped to the appropriate name card.

          “Ah here we are.  Mr. Rumpl has a restricted visitors list.  I’ll have to ask you to wait for the Nursing Supervisor,” she explained.

          “We can wait,” Booth smiled.

          “Help yourself to some coffee over in the solarium and I’ll give her a jingle,” the young woman smiled and quickly picked up the phone. 

          “What do you suppose the old man in the wheelchair did to deserve such treatment?”  Brennan asked Booth once they were outside the receptionist’s earshot.

          “He must not be allowed outside by himself.  He probably has declining mental faculties,” her partner explained.

          “Logical approach.  One would think they would put such patients on a different floor so they couldn’t try to escape,” she commented.

          “You’d think but perhaps their nursing facility is slowly overrunning their assisted living facility,” Booth said.  Brennan nodded.  Every year more and more of America’s population was growing older putting a strain on families and nursing homes alike.

          “The Nursing Supervisor is coming right up,” the receptionist interrupted their thoughts as she had managed to turn the old man around.  She pushed him around the corner under a sign that read “Unit A” with an arrow.  Back in a few seconds, she approached the partners.

          “Are you friends of Sheldon’s?”  She asked.

          “Not exactly,” Booth showed her his badge.

          “Oh my,” the woman commented.

          “Are these the people here to see Mr. Rumpl?”  A tall woman with dirty blonde hair asked.

          “Oh yes.  This is…” the receptionist hadn’t been given their names and she stumbled.

          “Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI.  This is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute,” Booth filled in.

          “Why don’t we step into my office?”  The Nursing Supervisor smiled.  She pointed to an open door right near the corner where the receptionist had ducked around with the man in the wheelchair.

          “Watch out for Sammy,” the nurse called to the receptionist.  It hadn’t taken long for the old man to figure out he’d been duped.

          “Can you call ‘B’ and have them come get him?  I haven’t been able to get anyone down here,” she asked.

          “I’m on it,” the Nursing Supervisor went into her office, closed the door, and immediately punched the memorized extension number into the phone.

          “Send someone down here immediately.  Sammy shouldn’t even be on this floor and he is trying to escape again,” she spoke into the phone and from what Booth could tell whoever was on the other end promised to come get him as soon as they got off the phone.

          “You’d better or I’ll be reporting this to _MY_ superior,” with that the call ended and the woman apologized.

          “Sometimes you have to put the fear of God into them and then they respond.  Happens when you have three people call off from the same unit.  Patient safety is key and we don’t let things like this happen on a regular basis.  Before I end up being completely rude, I’m Meta, why did you want to see Sheldon?”  She asked.

          “Official business if he is still mentally with it,” Booth explained.

          “You’re in luck.  Sheldon is still sharp as a tack even though he’s almost eighty years old.  He lives on the third floor with our assisted living group.  You see the assisted living sections are on three and four while our nursing sections are on one and two, makes for easier emergency evacuations that way,” Meta told them.

          “Are his visitors restricted because he used to be a police detective?”  Brennan asked.

          “Partly but mostly because of his family.  I can’t go into all the details without violating the patient’s privacy but you’d be surprised how many family squabbles end badly,” the Supervisor said.

          “Thanks for your time, if you’ll give us his room number, we’ll get out of your hair,” Booth smiled.

          “Room three-oh-five, when you leave here head to the right, the elevator is right there.  On the third floor, follow the signs,” Meta smiled and they all stood.  She held the door for them and the partners quickly found the elevator.

          Three hundred and five was easy to find upon exiting the elevator and Booth knocked on the door to the room.

          “Mr. Rumpl, it’s Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan,” with any luck he wouldn’t have to announce he was FBI.  The door opened and very well looking elderly man opened it.

          “Do I know you?”  He asked.

          “We’re here on official business,” Booth flashed his badge.  Rumpl looked around in the hallway and quickly ushered them inside the cozy apartment.

          “Official business huh?  What could little old me offer the Federal Bureau of Investigation?”  Rumpl wanted to know as he offered them seats on his couch.  He took a seat across from them in a La-Z-Boy.

          “We’re looking into the murder of Burt Seaford,” the G-man said.

          “Ah well then you’ve come to the right place.  Doctor Ed Smith and I were confounded by the results.  I know he was murdered but we didn’t have a ton of proof other than the angle of the shot.  Of course forensics weren’t what they are today anyway.  You test the gun for anything I might have missed?”  Sheldon asked.

          “Wait, you said that the coroner declared it a murder?”  Brennan wanted to know.

          “Why wouldn’t he?  Suspicious circumstances, upward angle of the gunshot, the fact that there were no fingerprints on the weapon, I mean, the only thing missing was a suspect,” Rumpl replied.

          “We found the coroner’s report to have been copied and altered.  Not only that the gun is missing,” Booth explained.

          “Shit.  I knew something was hinky when the Sheriff at the time told me to close the case or file it.  I was only given two weeks to chase down leads before they pulled the plug.  It was a media circus you see, everyone in town wanted to know who would kill old Burt.  Sweetest guy you’ve ever met.  Never turned anybody away if they needed help.  Then he goes ahead and mysteriously shoots himself?  No way.  Most cases I saw, the person who committed suicide held the gun at a ninety-degree angle against their temple.  Instead what the Doc found was more like a sixty-degree angle.  I thought it was somebody trying real hard to make it look like a suicide,” Sheldon said.

          “What was the name of the Sheriff at the time?”  Booth asked.

          “Art Haberly.  He died a long time ago though.  His boy got sent to Desert Storm and came home in a pine box.  The next day, Art hung himself.  Left a note saying he couldn’t go on, especially since his wife was gone some ten years before that,” the ex-police detective filled them in.

          “So someone doctors the files and steals the gun after the case gets put away prematurely.  There is no one left alive to talk to about it except Raymond Seaford,” Booth shook his head.

          “I’ll tell you right now, it would have remained quiet if Leonard Setter hadn’t called me up on his deathbed.  He had lung cancer you see and he told me he wanted to get something off his chest.  Said he killed Burt Seaford.  Not because he wanted to but because he had to.  Told me to go digging and I’d find what I was looking for.  Never understood what the poor bastard meant.  He died while talking to me,” Sheldon explained.

          “Go digging?”  Brennan raised an eyebrow.

          “Yeah, I have no idea what he was talking about but maybe it’ll help you.  If I can be of any more help, come and see me.  I don’t get visitors too often and I’d like to see the one that got away get caught,” Rumpl smiled.

          “I’ll keep you posted.  If you think of anything, here’s my card,” Booth stood and handed him a card from his jacket pocket.

          “Thanks, I will,” Sheldon nodded as he showed the partners out.


	26. Chapter 26

**Sheriff Koch’s Office, Friday at 2:30 pm**

          “So did Sheldon give you anything good?”  The Sheriff asked after the partners had entered his office and closed the door.

          “He’s clean but I’m having suspicions about the Sheriff at the time, Art Haberly,” Booth filled him in; sitting in the same seat he sat in earlier in the morning.

          “What kind of suspicions?”  Koch wanted to know.

          “He told Sheldon that he only had two weeks to wrap the case up.  Something so high profile would normally have a shortened solve time simply because everyone would be working on it.  Yet only one detective and the coroner seemed to be doing all the legwork.  Usually we call that a cover up,” Booth said bluntly.

          “You think Art was on the take?”  Johnny raised an eyebrow.

          “It would explain the doctored records and missing weapon.  I never found anything inside the file indicating someone ran down the serial number on the gun.  Now at first, if it was ruled a suicide there would be no reason to but the moment murder was suspected then someone should have run the serial numbers.  Conveniently there are no serial numbers mentioned in the file and the weapon is missing.  Even if we wanted to run the serials without the weapon we couldn’t.  Someone who knew where to look for where the information was stored removed it,” Booth explained.

          “That someone being the detective or the sheriff,” Koch nodded.

          “That same person could have doctored the medical examiner’s report at the same time.  Anyone who comes asking about the report at a later date would never know it had been doctored,” Brennan said.

          “So Art was dirty.  It will be awfully hard to prove it with him gone and all,” the Sheriff reminded them.

          “Yes it will be but maybe we won’t have to.  If we follow what Leonard Setter told Detective Rumpl, we may get lucky.  I think it’s time we made a trip to Seaford Construction and have a look see at their records from when Burt Seaford was murdered,” Booth told the Sheriff as he stood.

          “Good luck.  We’re running out of time.  Didn’t Caroline give you until the end of the day today?”  Koch wondered.

          “We have until midnight.  After that she’s handing the papers over Seaford’s attorney in the morning,” Booth nodded.

          “Well I hope you find what you’re looking for.  This guy certainly has gotten away with a lot over the years.  It’d be nice to know he’ll finally be paying for it,” Johnny smiled slightly and Booth and Brennan left his office.

**Seaford Construction, Friday at 3:15 pm**

          “We need to see your company holdings back in nineteen seventy-nine,” Booth flashed his badge at the receptionist.

          “Let me get Mr. Cray.  He’ll know where to find such things,” she didn’t smile as she picked up the phone and called the new boss in his office.  Mr. Cray was standing before them in short order.  Though he only stood at about five foot nine inches tall, the former construction manager was a formidable looking man, which is probably why Seaford Construction jobs got done so quickly.

          “You need records from seventy-nine?”  Cray didn’t beat around the bush.

          “Yes.  We need to know what properties were owned by Seaford Construction, that includes places being rented out as well,” Booth explained.

          “They’ll be in the basement, follow me,” he said.  The group headed for the elevator and Cray pushed the button to send them to the basement.  Once they exited the elevator, he led them through winding piles of cardboard boxes full of paperwork.

          “All right, everything from earlier than nineteen eighty-five should be in here,” the current boss of Seaford Construction told the partners as he swung open a door that had obviously not been opened in a while.

          “And how exactly are these sorted?”  Brennan asked looking at the stacks of boxes.  She counted ten stacks most that had six boxes per stack. 

          “By client,” Cray said.

          “We need a year, we don’t know which clients we are looking for,” Booth told him.

          “Then I wish you the best of luck.  No one working here currently worked back earlier than eighty-five.  None of this was put on the computer since its over twenty years old,” the man looked at them apologetically.

          “Ok then, Bones call up your Squint Squads that were put on hold.  We need some serious help,” her partner said.


	27. Chapter 27

**In the Basement of Seaford Construction, Friday at 6:00 pm**

          Booth let out a yawn he’d been trying to hold in for the last few minutes.  Sifting through the piles of boxes had been boring to say the least.  There had been five groups of Squint Squads and now three of them were out looking for anything that could be useful at the sites they had discovered.  The Sheriff had promised deputies to meet them so anyone using the facilities currently would not get in the way.

          “Well how many more do we need to get through?”  Booth asked as he looked up from the sheet he’d been reading.

          “There are twenty boxes left.  Our progress has slowed due to the loss of the teams from the Jeffersonian,” Brennan told him without bothering to look up.

          “We only have five hours and fifty minutes left,” he heaved a sigh and went back to reading.  He’d been happy to have the chairs and tables that Mr. Cray had had brought down to them.

          “We’ll find something,” his partner seemed incredibly confident.

          “Dr. Brennan!”  A shout came from the far table where two archeologists sat.

          “What do you have?”  She asked looking up from the file she had.

          “I’ve got a piece of property with a retaining pond not far from the last site Johnson found,” the young man explained.

          “I want every inch of that pond searched as well as the building.  See if you can’t get some dive equipment from the Sheriff’s department.  Take your team and call us as soon as you get something,” the forensic anthropologist ordered.

          “Yes ma’am,” the young man quickly rounded up his team and they took off.  Booth made a call to Koch and then returned to his file.

          “I don’t like this retaining pond property,” he said after hanging up his phone.

          “Yes, it could present a problem.  If the weapon was tossed into it, it has been sitting in water for thirty-one years.  No doubt rusted covered in algae.  I would imagine it would be tough to get a ballistic match as we’ll be lucky if the gun fires,” Brennan nodded before looking back at the file she had.

          “Well the bullet that killed Burt was mangled beyond belief anyway.  We’d have to find bullets and get a metallurgical match to the original bullet, which thankfully was left behind.  The gun would help as far as matching it to a weapon that was in Raymond’s name,” Booth told her.

          “You don’t think that Seaford would be dumb enough to dump the bullets with the gun do you?  Of course they would be compromised if they landed in the bottom of the pond,” she said.

          “It’s been my experience that people forget about the bullets and remember to throw away the gun.  With any luck, they might be at Seaford’s home.  Bones you’re brilliant!”  The G-man suddenly had a thought.

          “I know I am but what does that have to do with anything?”  Brennan asked.

          “Sheriff, meet me at Seaford Construction.  You and I have to get out to Raymond Seaford’s house,” Booth said into the phone.  The Sheriff agreed and promised to be right over.

          “Ok Bones, you and the last Squint Squad keeping digging for anymore properties.  I’m heading over to Seaford’s house with the Sheriff.  With any luck we’ll find the bullets,” he smiled and headed for the stairs.  Brennan gave a half smile before heading back to the file in her hands. 

**Raymond Seaford’s House, Friday at 7:00 pm**

          “You really think he was dumb enough to have the bullets stashed somewhere in his house?”  Koch asked as they entered the front door.

          “I wouldn’t be surprised at all.  If the gun disappeared from evidence, he probably figured, he had nothing to worry about.  As you and I both know, you can’t just throw bullets in the garbage and burying them isn’t a good idea either.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the cheapskate in Seaford forced him to keep the leftover bullets,” Booth said.

          “I see your point.  Ok, start in the basement and work our way up?”  Koch asked.

          “Sounds like a plan,” the G-man nodded.


	28. Chapter 28

**Raymond Seaford’s House, Friday at 7:15 pm**

          “Ok, so the basement was a bust,” Sheriff Koch said as they climbed the stairs.

          “I’ve never seen such a clean basement.  Nothing piled up, no cobwebs, not even a piece of dirty laundry,” Booth couldn’t believe it.

          “Well might as well fan out around the first floor.  Maybe he’ll have a safe or something,” Johnny suggested.

          “Good call.  You start in the living room and I’ll check out the kitchen,” the G-man said.  Koch nodded and headed off into the spacious living room.  Booth moved into the kitchen.  It was as spotless as the basement.  The tile floor didn’t have a crumb on it.  There were no dirty dishes in the sink or dishwasher and the stovetop was void of any crusted on food.  Pulling open the cabinets, Booth saw that they were neatly arranged and left no room for hidden hidey-holes or passageways.  He abandoned the cupboards and tried the refrigerator.  The large appliance was mostly empty and as sturdy as the day Raymond Seaford had bought it.  Booth shook his head and then moved to the floor to check for any loose tiles.  After coming up empty, he moved into the adjoining dining room.  The table had stacks of paperwork on it.  It would take too long to read through it all so he moved on to the walls.  They all appeared to be solid and so was the hardwood floor.  Heaving a sigh, the G-man headed out of the dining room and into the living room.  Koch wasn’t there anymore so he headed down the hall.

          “Find anything?”  The Sheriff asked as he looked up from the desk in the den he’d been rifling through.

          “Nope.  Any luck in here?”  Booth wondered.

          “Well the living room is clean and so is this room.  I was just hoping I’d find a key to a security deposit box or a storage locker on this desk, so far nothing.  Did you check the bathroom?”  Johnny wanted to know.

          “No, I was about to.  It’s only a half bath, so I won’t be long,” the FBI agent said.

          “Well if I’m still in here when you’re done, come get me.  Then we’ll head upstairs,” the Sheriff told him.  Booth nodded and left the den.  Across the hall was the half bath and he stepped inside.  The space was barely big enough for the sink, a medicine chest, a small cupboard, and toilet.  _Just enough to do what you gotta do_ , Booth smirked.  He opened the small cupboard above the toilet only to find a box of tissues and some extra rolls of toilet paper.  There was nothing behind the toilet and he moved to the sink.  The medicine chest was full of dental floss, mouthwash, cough drops, and a few miscellaneous cold medications.  Once again the furniture proved solid and he left the room.  Walking back into the den, he found the Sheriff not there.

          “Sheriff?”  He called out.

          “Over here!”  Was the reply.  Booth followed the sound of the voice back to the living room.

          “What do you have?”  He asked as he entered the room.

          “A key that unlocks the long door on the side of the entertainment center.  I was about to open it.  Probably nothing but who locks up their DVDs?”  Koch wondered.

          “No one unless they’ve got a stash the little kiddies don’t need to see,” Booth commented as the Sheriff opened the door. 

          “Or there is a secret you want to keep hidden,” Koch smirked.  Inside the entertainment center should have been rows of shelves instead what they found was a set of six keys sitting on top of a small cabinet.

          “All righty then.  Why don’t we open this bad boy up?”  The Sheriff asked.

          “See which keys fits,” Booth nodded.  Koch tried the first key, which didn’t fit.  He moved to the second, then the third, the fourth, and then the fifth key.  This one fit and he turned the lock.  The door swung open to reveal a stack of DVDs.

          “Oh man.  I guess you were right,” Johnny was disappointed as he pulled the stack out of the cabinet and started flipping through the titles.

          “But don’t you usually hide stuff like that in your bedroom?”  Booth wondered.

          “Well he does live alone,” Koch pointed out.  The G-man heaved a sigh.  They were getting nowhere fast.

          “What do you suppose the other keys are for?”  The local lawman asked.

          “I don’t know we haven’t found any other locked items.  Lets head upstairs, maybe there will be something up there,” Booth said.  Quickly, the DVDs were put back and the two went for the staircase that led to the second floor.  The first room on the right was locked.

          “Try the keys,” the FBI agent said.  Koch nodded and quickly went for the lock.

          “Maybe you should pull out your weapon.  Any door inside the home on the second floor with a deadbolt is probably dangerous,” the Sheriff commented but Booth was way ahead of him.

          “Ready when you are,” he said when Johnny had found the right key.  They threw the door open and Booth went in first with the Sheriff right behind him.

          “Ok this is just freaky,” Booth couldn’t believe his eyes after they made sure the room was clear.

          “No wonder he locked the door,” Koch whistled as he returned his weapon to its holster.  The walls were covered in newspaper articles dating back to the death of Nelson Seaford.  Articles covering the death of Burt Seaford, the disappearances of Duc Lin and Lee Chang, and even the death of Leonard Setter were plastered on top of one another.

          “Why do you suppose he hung onto all this stuff?  I mean the articles about the family members and Setter I get but why Duc Lin and Lee Chang?  Trophies?”  The Sheriff asked.

          “It doesn’t make much sense especially since he knew there would be a lot of questions if someone ever found it before we caught him,” Booth shrugged as he walked over to a desk that was covered with various items that were covered in dust.

          “Still doesn’t explain what the other four keys are for or what Leonard meant by ‘go digging’,” Koch shook his head.  The G-man nodded thoughtfully as he moved to the room’s closet.

          “It’s locked,” he said.

          “Let’s give it a whirl,” Johnny went over to the door and eventually found a use for a third key.

          “This closet is empty.  So why was it locked?”  Booth wondered.

          “Check the walls, maybe something will open,” Koch suggested as he entered the closet the two tried the wall panels but were unsuccessful.

          “Is there a light in here?”  Booth asked as he felt something with his hands near the floor.

          “Yeah, let me just yank the chain here,” as soon as the sheriff did so, a part of the floor gave way and the two men found themselves tumbling down the remnants of a coal shaft that had been extended to the second floor upon the removal of the fireplace in the living room.  They both rolled out of the bottom and into a pile of dirt and dust.

          “Ok, so he made some house modifications.  Clever if you ask me.  He just used the old chimney shaft until he was at a place where he could hit the coal shaft,” the Sheriff was impressed as he picked himself up and dusted himself off.

          “This isn’t part of the basement that we went through,” Booth said shaking himself off and trying to brush the dirt off.

          “We thought the basement only went partway under the house turns out that this must be the other half of it,” Johnny nodded as he pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and looked around for a light of some sort.  He found a switch nearby and threw it illuminating the hidden half of the basement with a dull sixty-watt glow.

          “Good God,” the Sheriff almost gagged at the sight before him.

          “What the hell?”  Booth couldn’t believe it himself.  On the far wall, two skeletons were nailed up.  The G-man went forth and took a look at them.  They’d been wired together and then placed on the wall as if they were being crucified.  It was almost as if Gormogon was playing an evil trick.  Shaking that thought from his head, Booth pulled out his cell phone and called Brennan.

          “I need a team to meet us at Raymond Seaford’s place.  We’ve got some freaky things out here,” he said to her.

          “That’s not all, you’ll never guess what the team found in the retaining pond,” she told him.


	29. Chapter 29

**Raymond Seaford’s Hidden Basement, Friday at 9:15 pm**

                Brennan arrived with a team of squints in tow.  Booth and Sheriff Koch had figured out what one of the remaining keys opened and it was the padlocked storm cellar doors.  With the use of this entrance the Sheriff’s forensic team, coroner, and the squints could easily enter and leave the basement.

          “What are we looking at Bones?”  Her partner asked.  He stood a few feet away from her watching all the activity in the basement.

          “You know I don’t like to jump to conclusions but since we are running out of time, I will make an educated assumption.  The skeleton on the right has a bullet hole in the skull.  I think it is safe to say that this Burt Seaford,” she explained as she looked over the bodies with a flashlight.

          “He did that to his dad?  After he helped him commit ‘suicide’?”  Johnny didn’t comprehend what was going on as he’d walked into the conversation late after directing his teams on what they were looking for.

          “It appears so.  I would say given the age of the bones on the left, we’re looking at Nelson Seaford.  I would think you’d want to file a request for the exhumation for both graves.  If we find they are empty, it will corroborate my theory,” Brennan told them.

          “So we know he killed his father because who digs up the body after it’s been buried and brings it home?  I mean if the case were to ever be reopened and someone went digging and found an empty grave, it would stall the investigation,” Booth said.

          “So that’s what Setter meant by ‘go digging’.  He knew if we dug up the casket of Burt Seaford, we’d find a whole lot of nothing,” Koch suggested.

          “It could very well be that he also knew about this place.  We’ll never be sure but it would seem that even this small amount of circumstantial evidence would make a jury believe he killed his dad.  Although I’m a little confused about why his grandfather is here,” the FBI agent put his hands on his hips.

          “I believe the discovery of these skeletons and the discovery of a gun found in the retaining pond capable of using twenty-two caliber rounds, should be sufficient to prove to Caroline that another murder was committed here.  However, the weapon is badly degraded from years in the water.  Did you find the bullets?”  Brennan asked.

          “No.  The only other thing we found was his stash of pornos,” Booth sighed.  His partner nodded and went back to the skeletons. 

          “Was Raymond Seaford a religious man?”  She suddenly inquired.

          “Not as far as I know.  Why?”  Koch replied.

          “The use of posing the bodies like this typically suggests a religious theme.  Someone who is crucified was often a person who committed a serious sin or a crime against a government.  To my knowledge, neither Nelson or Burt Seaford were ever found guilty of such crimes,” Brennan said.

          “No both had clean criminal records.  Both were well loved here in West Point,” the Sheriff said before getting pulled away by one of the forensic team.

          “But their grandson or son was not.  No one really likes him.  He is a scheming man who we know has used others to do his dirty work.  Do you think he kept them here to remind himself how he’d never live up to his father’s and grandfather’s expectations?”  Booth wondered.

          “No, I don’t think so.  If he was worried about familial expectations, he threw them out the window when he killed his own father.  However no one seems to have any reasons why he would go through the trouble of killing Burt other than to gain the property that would have come to him in his father’s will anyway,” Brennan shook her head.

          “How about keeping them down here because that’s where he hides the bodies?”  Koch asked as he approached the partners.

          “Pardon?”  Booth asked.

          “The forensic team found a bone sticking up out of the ground in the far corner,” the Sheriff pointed to an area where one of the Jeffersonian team was readying the ground penetrating radar.

          “But we don’t have anyone missing who was on this case,” Brennan pointed out.

          “Doesn’t mean we didn’t have a serial killer on the loose,” Koch said.

          “I’m calling Caroline.  She needs to see this,” Booth whipped out his cell phone and quickly dialed the State’s Attorney.


	30. Chapter 30

**FBI Interrogation Room 1, Saturday at 9:00 am**

          “Well I was going to serve up deal papers but I believe giving you a deal would just be too good for you.  My Friday night was ruined thanks to you,” Caroline said as she pulled a manila folder out of her briefcase.  Across the table from her sat Raymond Seaford and his attorney, Isabel Mahan.

          “You can’t renege on our deal,” Mahan said sternly.

          “Oh but I can and I will.  That’s the beauty of being a States Attorney cherie,” Caroline was being dead serious.

          “On what basis?”  Isabel demanded.

          “Seems we found your little treasure trove in the basement of your house, Mr. Seaford.  In good conscience the States Attorney cannot and will not stand for fifteen years concurrent when four more bodies were discovered in his home.  A home he turned over to be searched in the first place,” she explained.

          “The deal for in the involvement in the deaths of Duc Lin and Lee Chang should still hold no matter what you find on his property.  They are separate crimes,” the defense attorney argued.

          “See we don’t think so.  Turns out Mr. Seaford has a thing against Asians.  Three of the four bodies were Asian that were in his basement.  That puts the race specific death total at five.  That’s five race-motivated deaths.  We’re seeking to try them all at the same time to show a pattern.  You know serial killers often do have patterns,” Caroline could tell she had them right where she wanted them.

          “I need to speak to my client,” Mahan said.

          “You do that.  In the meantime you’d best not forget we’re charging him in the murder of his father as well,” Caroline smirked and left the room.

          “You think he’ll bite?”  Booth asked as she entered the viewing room.

          “The racial aspect of these crimes carries an automatic death sentence if he is convicted.  Not the lethal injection type, mind you, but he’ll never get out.  Each count would have an extra fifteen years tacked onto it,” she told him.

          “Well Bones is working on piecing everything back together but with her preliminary findings it should be a slam dunk.  Cam, Hodgins, and Simon headed out to West Point this morning,” he explained.

          “Good I want this sealed tighter than a drum.  This animal had best not be getting away with it cherie,” Caroline said.

          “You’ve got it.  As soon as we identify the bodies and cause of death we’ll give everything to you,” the G-man nodded.

          “Any ideas as to why he hates Asians?  Or the Mattaponi for that manner?”  She asked.

          “Well the Mattaponi he hated because they interfered with his business life.  As far as the Asians, still no idea why.  Maybe something in the victims’ pasts will shine some light on it.  Bones suggested that the reason Nelson and Burt Seaford ended up in the basement was because they were both tolerant men and to Raymond that was a form of betrayal.  When she worked on those mass graves in South America, she told me that quite often those who sympathized or aided those who were being hunted were killed and dumped into the same pits.  I guess if the Seafords helped the Asians then it was a form of betrayal.  Where he got his racist views from, I’m not sure we’ll ever know.  It wasn’t ingrained into him by his family,” Booth shrugged his shoulders.

          “It’s a practiced behavior.  Much like the Klan always blamed black folks for their own shortcomings, these Asians were blamed for something.  We know that Duc Lin was killed because he found Mattaponi artifacts.  Lee Chang was killed because he found Duc Lin’s murder scene.  Why cater to them if he killed the others?”  Caroline wondered.

          “Bones believed that the Asians in the basement were killed after Duc Lin and Lee Chang.  He wizened up and didn’t involve anyone else in the killings.  Again we’ll know more when we get the victims’ records,” he said.

          “All right well lets see what Seaford has to say for himself,” she nodded and headed back into the interrogation room.


	31. Epilogue

**Brennan’s Apartment, Three Weeks Later**

          “Well Bones, I’m glad that that is all over with,” Booth smiled as he plopped himself onto the couch next to her.  He handed her one of the beers he’d retrieved from the refrigerator.

          “I concur although Sweets may not have been so happy with the results,” she commented.

          “Why’s that?”  Her partner asked her, a little confused.

          “Well he wanted to finish picking Seaford’s brain, as he called it.  Hard to do when the person in question commits suicide after only serving three weeks of his agreed to sentence,” Brennan explained.

          “I was informed there wouldn’t be a huge investigation into his death.  One of the guards heard him call an Asian prisoner racist names.  Turns out the guy runs with the Yakuza.  Suicide would be the polite way of calling it murder,” he said.  Brennan looked at him questioningly.

“The guy pissed off a guy already serving four life terms.  What are they going to do?  Tack another one on?  Besides they would have taken him out once they found out what he’d done,” he continued.

          “So either way he wasn’t going to die of natural causes,” she nodded and took a swig of beer.  Somehow despite the fact that justice wasn’t exactly served, she found herself not terribly upset.  She was reminded by what her father had told her some time ago, “There are some people that the world is better without”.  At that moment, Champ walked into the room.  He’d been napping when they’d come into the apartment and Brennan hadn’t wanted to disturb him.  The loyal animal had been falling asleep in front of the main door to her place.  She’d been working late and more than once she’d tripped over him.  Having made a deal with the next-door neighbor’s kids, they promised to walk him when she was working late.  Apparently they had fun tuckering him out as well.

          “Hey there buddy!”  Booth’s face lit up.  Champ wagged his tail as his tongue lolled out of his mouth.  The G-man reached down and petted the dog’s head, which made him wag his tail all the more.

          “Where’s your ball?”  He asked.  If it was possible, Champ’s eyes lit up and he took off.

          “Oh don’t get him started,” Brennan shook her head.

          “Come on Bones.  Stop being such a Debbie Downer,” Booth smirked as Champ brought his dog drool covered ball over.

          “Booth, I just spent two weeks giving names to victims who families aren’t even in the US or are deceased.  I’m tired,” she smiled slightly to let on she wasn’t going to stop them.

          “Yes well that’s why you have ol’ Champ here.  He makes me smile no matter how I’m feeling,” he chuckled.  Brennan knew he was right and let him play with the dog while she got up and returned the now empty beer bottles to the kitchen.

          Raymond Seaford never admitted any reason for killing the three victims they’d found buried in his basement.  Two had been undocumented aliens who had been working for Lee Chang at the Laundromat.  The search for their relatives went cold very quickly.  Speculation was that they were silenced because Seaford was afraid they’d talk.

The third had had family in West Point but they had moved after their family member had been legally declared dead.  Once Booth had tracked the family down, all he found were three plots in a cemetery.  With no real reason for the man’s death, it added to the unsatisfying end to a horrible case.

          Burt and Nelson Seaford were reburied in their original graves while the two undocumented men’s remains were sent back to China.  Hopefully someone over there could find their families.  The last man was buried next to his wife and children in a small but beautiful cemetery out west. 

          Brennan heaved a sigh as she scooped two more beers from the refrigerator.  Her thoughts turned to her own “family”.  She could hear Booth congratulating Champ on a great catch and the dog happily gave him a bark.

          “Keep it down boys!”  She called as she walked back out into the living room.  The look on both of their faces was priceless as though they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.  Brennan laughed and gave Booth a peck on the cheek.  Petting Champ, she sat down to enjoy a nice evening with her boys.

**The End**


End file.
